


Beyond This Earthly Realm

by n_nami



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Adventure Time AU, Black Magician Trilogy inspired, Fluid Sexuality, Graphic Sexual Content, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Romance, bottom!Jensen, top!Misha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2373392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n_nami/pseuds/n_nami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody told Jensen that activating his magical abilities to improve his everyday life would make him see the spirits and colorful little monsters living in the realm beyond. However, nobody could've prepared him for falling for a cheeky gypsy who was trapped in the spirit realm centuries ago and who already knows him better than his co-ed Danneel and fellow magician Felicia together.<br/>Misha and Jensen are head over heels for each other - if there weren't those annoying technicalities, like the non-existence of a portal between the two realms. But when a wizard and the spirit of a gypsy set their mind to something, they get stuff done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond This Earthly Realm

**Author's Note:**

> Black Magician Trilogy and Adventure Time inspired AU. Obviously, none of this happened. I own nothing, I'm just playing in the sandbox. Past relationships are only mentioned.
> 
> Written for [deancasbigbang](http://deancasbigbang.livejournal.com/) 2014\. Masterpost on my LJ is [here](http://namichan89.livejournal.com/36475.html).

When Jensen Ackles first heard that he was a wizard, it wasn't via an owl-delivered letter. It didn't say 'To Jensen Ackles, 1st  floor, 107 Hamilton Dr, Richardson, TX'.

It was a boring letter from the school administration informing him that he was allowed to attend the wizards' and witches' branch of UT after he finished high school.

“But why would I?” 12-year-old Jensen had asked his mom, sitting at his desk in front of his chemistry set.

Donna had beamed at him, obviously proud since they didn't have another wizard in their family, apart from Jensen's dad. “Because you're gifted. Imagine working in the police force like your dad, wouldn't that be great?”

“But I wanna be a scientist. I wanna do research and tests and invent stuff, like Professor Brainard invented Flubber,” Jensen had groused. “I don't wanna do what dad does. He wears robes, and those are stupid.”

“Jensen Ross, mind your language,” Donna had reprimanded him. Her smile had dimmed and she had sat down on the second chair beside his table, eyeing the chemistry utensils with a weary shake of her head. “You don't need to do exactly what dad does. But you'd have so many more opportunities as a wizard.”

“But how do they even know? That I'm a wizard?” Jensen had asked and pulled his white costume lab coat closer around himself.

“Honey, that's just how it is,” Donna had said gently. “And you shouldn't dismiss it that easily. You might regret it.”

The Weebo toy that he had got at McDonald's the week before seemed to stare at him, telling Jensen not to abandon his dreams.

The discussion had come up every few months until then, Jensen's dad encouraging him whenever he felt necessary and Jensen just growing more stubborn with every time Alan reminded him of the perks of being a wizard.

“Anyone would jump at the chance, Jensen,” Alan used to say. “Why don't you?”

“Because I like chemistry,” Jensen used to answer, tight-lipped and sick of the never-ending fighting about the topic.

It all came to a head the day Jensen signed up for UT – just not for the program Jensen's parents would have wanted him to. He chose the department of chemistry, like he had intended to for years, and after a week of not talking to him, Donna had eventually given in and accepted Jensen's choice. His dad took longer to get used to the idea, and things had never quite re-settled between them.

So Jensen had gone to Austin, had gone to college as a boy, had loved every bit of campus life, had returned to Richardson after a year as a changed, young man.

Because he'd seen the so-called novices of the wizards' and witches' program, and they were all pretentious, conceited students who liked to show off at every party they showed up to – regardless of whether they were invited or not. Everyone seemed to be fascinated and delighted to have them, and Jensen always ended up feeling like an asshole for not agreeing with the general consensus. Magicians couldn't hold a conversation without mentioning their status every two seconds, feeling superior and like they were the better, if minor part of the student body of UT. Jensen had to bite his cheek every time to keep himself from reminding them that he, too, was technically a wizard, but one who didn't pursue a career in the jobs exclusively for wizards.

He only made the mistake of mentioning it to a witch once, a girl named Katie whom he met at a party at his dorm mate's friend’s house. Her jaw had hit the floor immediately.

“Are your parents some kind of magicphobes? Didn't they want you to become a wizard? You know you can do something about that, you can contact the ministry--” she had spluttered, enraged.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Jensen had interrupted her. “I just didn't want to.”

For a few moments, Katie stared at him. “You didn't _want_ to?” she had asked, completely gobsmacked. “But why?”

Jensen had shrugged and smiled. “I like chemistry. So that's what I'm studying now.”

Even after that, she hadn't understood. Jensen had refrained from telling anyone else, unwilling to explain himself for something that he shouldn't need to explain himself for.

Just because you've got the gift to become a wizard shouldn't mean that you don't have a choice about your college education.

And that statement right there came from the only other student Jensen had ever told about his ability. Ty, who was the owner of said house where the party took place. Ty had also quickly become a friend and had wormed his way into Jensen's heart, with his soft blue eyes and lazy grin and all around gentleness, and they ended up kissing each other good night after their first date and sleeping with each other after their third.

As a junior, Ty only had one more year of college to go, and Jensen pretty much came out to his parents while explaining to them that he wanted to live with Ty in his house instead of going back to the dorms after the fall semester.

Which was the second thing that drove him apart from his parents, and his dad never looked at him the same way again. Jensen was fine with it, since at least he wasn't disowned and his parents still talked to him.

They met Ty at Thanksgiving that same year, and while Donna quickly warmed up to him, Alan remained distant.

Still, when they broke up half a year later, Donna didn't seem too heartbroken about it.

“He drank a bit too much at Thanksgiving, if you ask me,” she said while doing the dishes, not noticing that Jensen was still hurt and she wasn't helpful, “Why don't you find yourself a nice girl out there, baby? Have a family?”

Jensen, heartbroken because of the pretty ugly break-up with Ty, snapped. “You do realize I'm gay, right, mom?”

“But you know, the things you hear about college,” she tried to reason, but her tone wasn't convincing anybody.

“What? That it was just a phase, that I'm experimenting?” Jensen frowned, baffled at her apparent misconception. “Hate to break it to you, but no. I'm gay, period.”

“Oh,” Donna said with her lips pressed to a thin line, then turned on her heels and left the room.

Jensen finished the dishes without complaining.

It took Donna two days, two days during which she didn't even look at him, until she apologized. Alan reacted like his wife, but he never apologized, and neither asked to meet his boyfriends after that. Which really only turned out to be one, Tom, whom he met in junior year and dated for about a year, until things fell apart. Jensen never had to introduce him to his parents since he moved into his own place during sophomore year, right after breaking up with Ty, and worked part-time jobs whenever he could.

Jensen graduated as best in his class and went on to grad school, without an idea in the world what his dissertation should be about. However, he was sure he wanted to earn his PhD.

At this point, he had no idea which kind of area of chemistry he'd like to research, so Jensen made the mistake of giving into his mother's still consistent, but rather exasperated attempts to get him into the wizards' program somehow.

“They still have a two semester program for people like you,” Donna almost pleaded when he visited his parents' place one Sunday afternoon for coffee and catching up. “Evening classes that you can take while you're in grad school. It's just practical magic, not even meant for a degree in anything. It's just for everyday life. Why don't you give it a try?”

And Jensen, tired of her nagging and of his own indecisiveness, sighed. “Fine.”

His answer surprised his mom so much, she had to sit down before she said, “Did you just agree?”

“Yeah,” Jensen groaned and rolled his eyes. “I mean, I've got a degree already. It's not like I'll ruin my career with this.”

She hugged him on impulse, a wide grin on her lips.

Jensen felt like crap, like he just betrayed himself.

“I actually agreed. Why did I do that?” Jensen sighs over lunch at the Aperture Laboratories canteen the next day. “I don't have any interest in becoming a magician. Like, zero, null, nada.”

Danneel, his best friend since the first day of college and fellow grad student, grins. “But you said yes.”

“Yeah.

“Just because you said yes doesn't mean you actually signed up already, right?”

“No, but now I’ll have to,” Jensen grouses. “Sign-ups are still open for another month. She won't let me get away with that.”

“Aw, I'm glad that at least someone was raised to keep his promises,” Danneel teases.

Jensen gives a grunt without further elaboration.

With a scrutinizing look, Danneel evaluates at him. Then, a second later, she states, “You really don't wanna disappoint her.”

“Of course not,” Jensen sighs. “I disappointed her all my life. But I don't wanna do this because of my mom. I don't even know why I would even consider it in the first place.”

A lopsided smirk spreads on Danneel's lips. “You wanna hear the truth or the cold, hard truth?”

“Start with the truth,” Jensen gives in, then takes a big bite off his sandwich to avoid having to say anything.

“You want to take the class because you finally admitted to yourself that you are, in fact, kinda curious. Because you're aware that knowing how to wield magic could come in handy one day. And because you grew out of your teenage rebellion phase.”

Jensen rolls his eyes, both at her answer and at her eating and talking with her mouth full.

“Or because, like me, you've heard of the dreamy Professor Padalecki. Unfortunately for you, he's also straight,” Danneel teases and sips from her diet coke. “Which I know is your type, but I don't want to go through all that shit with you again.”

“Shut your face,” Jensen grumbles without venom. It's not like it's his fault that his last three unrequited crushes in a row had been straight guys.

Danneel smirks at him because she knows that very well. “You need to get laid, my friend. Preferably by someone who's actually into men. I heard that makes you less grumpy.”

“There's nothing wrong with being grumpy,” Jensen mumbles.

“Wouldn't you know,” Danneel winks.

“'sides,” Jensen says between bites of his tuna sandwich, “I don't remember your last successful conquest.”

“I've been busy,” she sighs overly dramatic and picks up a huge piece of lettuce in her thumb and index finger, then stuffs it into her mouth. “But hey, that's why I know where your grumpiness comes from. Unfortunately though, grumpy isn't sexy. So why don't you try smiling that gorgeous smile of yours and wait for the men of Aperture to drop to their knees in front of you.”

Jensen raises an eyebrow. “You know I'm not one for one night stands. That never ends well. Or, you know, ended well, those last few times.”

“Yes, I know, Mr. Newly-committed-relationships-only. I'm just saying. But hey, maybe you’ll meet someone at those evening classes. That would be awesome, wouldn't it?”

“Yeah,” Jensen answers, lost in thought. He's never been good at socializing and meeting new people, but maybe Danneel is right. Maybe this is good for him. Then he remembers her question from earlier. “So, uh. What's the cold, hard truth, anyway?”

“You really want to hear it? It's not gonna be pretty.”

“I can handle the truth,” Jensen says, lowering his voice for comedic effect.

Danneel cracks up and almost spits out the mouthful of half-chewed bread and salad, then recovers to turn way too serious for Jensen's liking. “Alright. I think that... how do I put this delicately... you are unhappy. With your life, with where you are now, with where you're going.”

“Am not,” Jensen shakes his head with emphasis. He's fine, really. Content with his life.

“Oh, please,” Danneel snorts. “The only thing in your life that you were ever sure about was that you liked chemistry. Need I remind you that you even wanted to counter-check your homosexuality with me, just to be sure?”

“And it worked, didn't it?”

“Well it didn't work, exactly, which proved everything, but,” Danneel says, pointing her finger at him for emphasis. “You can't double check every single decision or discovery you make in life. I know that's how chemistry works, but that's not life, Jay. In chemistry, you can throw potassium into water because you know what happens. But in life, you have to throw yourself into unfamiliar situations to learn or gain something. And I know you. You're not good with making the big decisions in life and with taking risks. Chemistry was always safe, witchcraft was not.”

“Magic,” Jensen corrects her in a meek voice.

“Not my point. You have no idea what to write your dissertation about, right? Why don't you take a break, do some regular lab work, learn some magic? It's a great opportunity to find yourself, learn something different that might be important one day.”

It's Jensen who snorts this time. “Since when are you so pro-magic?”

“Since I see that you're running into walls, metaphorically speaking, being sulky and unhappy and a general grouch.”

“General Grouch,” Jensen sits up straight and salutes, and Danneel mimics him.

“Stop digressing from the topic,” she scolds him.

A deep sigh wrings its way out of Jensen's throat. “So, since I can't weasel my way out of this one--” Jensen muses out loud, then puts down his sandwich. Suddenly, he's not hungry any more.

“Which I think you shouldn't,” Danneel pretends to whack him upside the head, but settles for ruffling his hair, much to Jensen's chagrin. “Listen to me, for once in your life, and go sign up for the wizards' program. Learn something. Maybe you'll need it later, for life.”

“They said that about trigonometry too, back in high school,” Jensen deadpans.

“They also said that about sex ed, yet never told us about gay sex,” Danneel mirrors him. “And you still learned it. Although I have to admit that I don't have any valuable experience to confirm that. I can only confirm that you suck at straight sex.”

Jensen chuckles, “Alright, alright, I get it. I'll sign up. What could possibly go wrong?”

And so it happens that one Saturday evening in September, Jensen finds himself in a classroom full of strange people that are mostly older than himself. He didn't even know there were so many people out there who could have become a witch or wizard and chose not to. Or didn't have the money for a college education, which is more likely. Everyone looks like they had a ten-hour workday and some seem outright tired while still running on nervous energy.

Jensen suppresses the strong urge to turn on his heels and leave the room.

He makes himself take a second look.

As it is, the class of twenty people is mixed in gender, age and ethnicity, and Jensen is drawn to the one and only redhead in the class. The desk beside her is still vacant and the people around her are already talking to each other, some who apparently already know each other or are getting to know each other. Jensen uses the opportunity and flops down onto one of the chairs that are always too small for him.

“Hey,” the redhead smiles and throws her short, bright ginger hair out of her eyes. “I'm Felicia.”

“I'm Jensen, nice to meet you,” he smiles in return, and they shake hands.

She hesitates for a moment, sizing him up. “So, what do you do for a living?”

Jensen turns towards her as he unpacks his backpack, pulls out pens and a notepad. “Grad student, chemistry.”

“Oh, that's cool,” she nods with genuine enthusiasm.

“What do you do?”

Felicia's eyes light up with confidence. “I'm a video game programmer, taught myself everything I know and never got around to going to college. I thought this would be something new and practical to learn. Maybe I can convince my machines to program a game for me, which, thinking about it, would take all the fun out of it.”

Jensen laughs at that. “Gotta say, I'm a big Xbox fan myself, as is my best friend.”

“Favorite game?” Felicia leans over, intrigued, the smile on her face bright and charming in a way that Jensen doesn't find the least bit insincere or flirtatious. Which is rare – strange women not hitting on him or flirting with him the second they meet him. It's refreshing.

So Jensen answers, “Currently? Gears of War.” with a shrug.

“One, two, three?”

“Replaying number one,” Jensen grins, then adds, “but I liked all three of them.”

“Good choice,” Felicia beams. She seems like an overall bubbly, nice girl, much like Danneel, so Jensen can't help but like her already.

Right at the moment she takes a breath to ask her next question, their professor steps into the room, his presence tangible and disrupting the conversation flowing among the class. The aura around him and his wide, open smile are one reason for that, his height does the rest.

“Good evening, everyone,” he greets the students, cheerful and friendly. “I'm sure some of you know me already. I'm Professor Padalecki, and I lead this class. Seeing as most of you don’t look like the average student, judging by your ages, I'll make this easier for all of us. You can call me Jared.”

They nod along, most of them smiling politely at the professor in front of them. It's fascinating, how easily he manages to ease the mood.

Jared clears his throat, then continues. “Glad we got that outta the way. One thing up front, this class won't have exams or tests, since it's not like you need grades or a diploma. This class is for you. These are tips and tricks that help you improve your daily life and use your abilities to enhance it. If you slack off in this class, it won't have consequences, except that you'll make your whole life a lot harder on yourself.”

Like their lives have been so difficult without magic, Jensen finds himself thinking. He huffs under his breath, and sees from the corner of his eye that Felicia's gaze shifts over to him.

She seems to share a similar thought and grins behind her hand as Jensen shoots her a lopsided, tiny smile.

“So, without further ado,” the professor's voice cuts through the classroom. “Let's start. Who here hasn't had their initiation ritual yet?”

Almost all hands in the room rise up. Only a shy looking gangly guy in the last row doesn't raise his hand.

The professor looks at him, then seems to recognize him and nods. “Alright. So, in order to access the powers you all have, you need to tap into them for the first time. I'll show you how, but prepare for something that will change your life forever.”

Jensen has a hard time not rolling his eyes. It's the usual pretentious magician-technobabble that he hates so much.

Jared makes them shove their desks to the back of the room, so they can sit down in a circle.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, his voice a steady, calming rumble that seeps deep into Jensen's bones. “Find yourself. Feel the tips of your fingers, the tips of your toes. Feel the muscles that lead from your digits to your elbows and knees, to your shoulders and hips. There's power in your body. Concentrate on that, concentrate on the muscles, push and pull, on the energy flowing through you, on the energy meeting in your middle. Breathe in. And out. Repeat.”

There's a tingle, spreading from Jensen's limbs through his veins as he breathes and follows Jared's instructions. Slowly, it travels up his arms and legs, makes his heart pump faster and his spine tense up. The surge of power that follows is almost too much to bear, and Jensen gasps silently as he feels the gathering of said power, deep in his chest, a strong, pulsating core of energy, and instinctively Jensen tries to contain it.

The moment when he gains control over his magic abilities, it's like a burst of white light behind his eyes, blinding him for a moment. Jensen feels the energy thrumming against his skin, against the confines of his body, powerful and overwhelming. Then he remembers how to breathe.

When Jensen opens his eyes, everything seems to be the same. People are either pressing their eyes shut, meditating and still searching for their core, or are looking around, their eyes wide with disbelief, just like Jensen.

Then he notices the orange blob on the professor's shoulder.

A blob he'd never seen before.

It has feet and eyes and a tiny snout, but no arms, and it looks at Jensen like it's smiling in recognition. Which is weird, so Jensen forces himself to avert his eyes.

And come to think of it, Jensen hadn't noticed the pulsing pink splotch on the wall, either. Its eyes are moving from top to bottom and back, like it's playing a game of pong with itself. Or with the blue thing that seems to consist of at least thirty legs and leans against the wall beneath it.

Jensen sees monsters.

Tiny, weird, colorful monsters, all around himself. Blobs and irregular shapes with feet or arms or one eye or none of the above. Or, in one notable exception, with a brain hanging out of its eye.

Panic washes over him for a scary short moment, but Jensen swallows it and takes a deep breath.

He did not sign up for this. But apparently, that's what it's like being a wizard.

From the looks a few students are shooting in the exact same directions as him, Jensen gathers that he's not the only one – but also that not everybody can see the blobs. Or the tentacle-thing that hides underneath the teacher's desk, just one arm peeking out from under it. Jensen can see its three eyes, though, and it freaks him out.

The things are everywhere. Not just beyond the teacher's desk, but also on the ceiling, the walls, under their chairs.

No one seems to freak out or faint, somehow.

The bright orange blob on Jared's shoulder is looking at him again and so is the Professor.

“What you see, it's normal,” he explains and smiles. “You get used to them quickly. Right, Qbert?”

The orange blob hops up and down and nods, apparently used to its name.

Jensen quietly doesn't wonder anymore why wizards are prone to mental illnesses and decides that being a crazy scientist is enough for him.

Beside him, Felicia makes a garbled noise.

When Jensen looks over, he finds her eyes focused on his leg and follows her line of sight.

He's got a red worm curled around his left ankle.

Jensen makes a squeak that's totally manly and not the least bit embarrassing, then tries to shake the worm off, to no avail.

“Relax, Jensen,” Jared laughs then, having noticed Jensen's discomfort. “You've had him there ever since I first saw you. Some of the dwellers get attached to certain persons, like Qbert here.”

“Dwellers?” Jensen splutters, still in shock. The red worm blinks up at him and rubs his head against Jensen's leg with obvious affection. It's furry and fluffy and Jensen has no idea how to deal with this.

“They live in the realm beyond,” Jared explains. “Not every wizard can see them, but most of them do. The realm is unaccessible to us, that's why we can't touch the dwellers.”

Felicia still stares at Jensen's leg and the red worm, wide-eyed and speechless.

“Oh my god,” she eventually says on the exhale. She looks like she's about to faint.

“So,” Jared interrupts the rumble of conversation that fills the room. “Everyone found their magic core, yes? Now, let's go ahead and learn what to do with it.”

During that first class, they start to learn simple things, like how to blow out a candle and use just the right amount of energy. Which lead to hilarious effects, like students clearing every table in a ten foot radius. Jensen can't really say he doesn't enjoy it.

When everyone is packing up their stuff, Jensen approaches the teacher's desk.

“Uh, professor?”

“Jared,” the professor corrects him without looking up from stuffing his pens and other writing utensils back into his bright blue backpack, but he's smiling behind the bangs falling into his face. Danneel was right, he is dreamy, but Jensen can't afford a crush on his teacher, so he lets it go.

“Jared,” Jensen repeats and nods, all business. “How did you know my name?”

“You noticed,” Jared comments, amused, then finally stops in the middle of trying to fit his notepad into the already overflowing bag. Jensen can spot a bag of gummy worms in there, but it's quickly covered by a pencil case. When he meets Jared's eyes, he looks at Jensen with a genuine smile and shrugs. “To put it simply, I have a good memory of faces, and yours is rather hard to forget. I've seen you around campus a couple times. You were in the chemistry program, right? Best in your class?”

“I... yeah,” Jensen stutters, then blushes when Jared starts gushing about the things he was told about Jensen by his former chemistry professor.

“Sorry,” Jared eventually laughs. “Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It's alright to tell me to shut up sometimes, I swear.”

“Jared?”

“Hm?”

“Don't worry, it's alright, but this isn't chemistry and I know it,” Jensen shakes his head and shrugs. “I know I won't be the best at wielding magic.”

“Maybe, but I know a natural when I see one,” Jared states, then zips up his backpack and slings it over his shoulder. “I'll see you next Saturday. Don't blow up your lab in the meantime.”

Needless to say, Jensen likes him.

The real surprise, as it turns out, is waiting for Jensen at home.

His apartment is not only swarmed with strange little monsters of all colors of the rainbow, no, as if that wasn't enough – there's a guy.

There's a guy, with brown, curly hair, floating in mid-air in his bedroom. One leg curled around the curtain of Jensen's bedroom window, hanging upside down, and sporting a smug smile on his full lips.

Jensen totally does not scream in an octave that's reserved for his sister. Seriously, as if this day hasn't been enough already.

“Oh, hey, didn't expect you back so soon,” the guy says and does an elegant somersault to come to a halt in front of Jensen. He's floating a few inches above the floor, so Jensen has to tilt his head back and look up at him. “Let me guess, the initiation ritual came with a twist?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Jensen bursts out on a whim, feels how his fingers are beginning to tremble. He isn't scared, but... damn, those blue eyes are unreal. He's so nervous that glittering golden sparks are shooting from his fingertips like they’re actual sparklers. Jensen concentrates to focus on his magical core and to contain the power in there.

“The name's Misha,” the guy states while letting himself drift over to Jensen's bed, laying down on his side and watching Jensen like he's waiting for something.

Now that Jensen has a better look with the contrast of the white sheets of his bed, he notices that the guy appears like one of the monsters in his room. He's translucent and see-through around the edges, the color of his hair, eyes and clothes just a bit too intense, like someone cranked up the contrast setting.

Jensen gapes at him like a fish.

“Speechless, Jensen?” Misha asks and arches his back to stretch.

“How do you know my name?” Jensen shakes his head in irritation. What is it with strange people knowing him today?

Misha chuckles. “I know a lot more than just your name. I've been living here for a while now, after all.”

“You... what? How long?”

“No idea, but maybe about two decades,” Misha shrugs as if it that's the most normal thing in the world. “I was already here when you moved in.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jensen murmurs, then drops down on his bed, careful to put a reasonable gap between himself and Misha. “You realize that's kinda creepy?”

“Hey, I'm not so different from all the other realm-dwellers,” Misha states with a gesture at the room, encompassing the blobs and weird shaped bodies. “We're drawn to wizards. Can't help it.”

Jensen laughs and scrunches up his nose. “Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m really not,” Misha states. “Why do you think they like you so much?”

Jensen looks down at his left ankle again, where the red, fluffy worm is still wrapped. It has closed its eyes and appears to be purring.

“The fuck,” Jensen curses with emphasis. “Really?”

Misha is laughing, but wheezing through the words, “Case in point.”

“And I can't do anything about it?” he asks and swipes at his ankle to brush the worm off. His hand goes straight through it.

“No touching, I'm sure they told you,” Misha grins, a wide split of his plush lips that reveals a row of even teeth.

“They did, well, kinda,” Jensen says, lost in thought, then reaches for Misha on a whim – only to see his hand going right through Misha's arm. “Huh.”

“Exactly,” Misha smiles. It's a big, goofy and kind of adorable smile that makes his too blue eyes sparkle. “Also there's a joke about you having your hand in me around here somewhere, I just haven't figured it out yet.”

Jensen can't help it, so he throws his head back and laughs. Laughs about the silliness of this joke, about the fact that he can see monsters and about this whole, fucked-up day. Some part of him wants to freak out while the one is still on the magic-induced high that makes Jensen strangely relaxed about the whole ordeal. Laughing helps him ease his nerves and helps him feel like he doesn't want to crawl out of his own skin any more.

“Besides,” Misha adds then with a teasing, lopsided grin. “That guy has been curled around your leg for years.”

“Well,” Jensen sighs, then covers his face in his hands and laughs some more. “So you're gonna stay here now or... what?”

Misha shrugs. “Yeah, I guess, if you don't mind. This is my home after all. And now that you can finally see me and talk to me, it's even better, right?”

“My roommate, the ghost,” Jensen groans and rubs his eyes. “What has my life become.”

“First, it's not ghost, it’s realm-dweller,” Misha raises his index finger to remind Jensen, then adds, “Second, it's either become a horror slapstick comedy or a rom-com. That's yet to be decided.”

With a frown, Jensen turns toward Misha on the bed, studying him for a moment. Round face, blue eyes, stubble, cute. Trained torso, black shirt, loose fitting pants, no socks, kinda hot. Realm-dweller, weird.

“Why do you assume this is going to be remotely fun?” he asks, can't help but feel skeptical.

“Because I know that we will have lots and lots of fun,” Misha winks, and Jensen can't help the spike of excitement that hits him hard and fast.

_My roommate, the hot and cheeky ghost._

Jensen sinks back into his bed and stares at the ceiling for a while, just to clear his head. It doesn't help much.

Misha's presence is hard to get used to, especially at first.

When Jensen wakes up the day after the ritual, he almost jumps out of bed at the shock of seeing someone asleep next to him.

“Come back to bed?” Misha murmurs, the words drawn out because of sleep and laziness.

“Who are you, my boyfriend?” Jensen grumbles in return, then heads for the kitchen. “God, I need coffee.”

Misha follows him after a second, floating into the kitchen to sit down on top of the fridge and yawn.

For a minute, Jensen ignores him, just goes about his usual routine of setting up the coffee machine and brewing a cup for himself. Only when he places the frying pan on the oven does he realizes something.

“Why do you even need to sleep in the first place?” Jensen shakes his head. “You're a freaking ghost.”

“Realm-dweller,” Misha nods. “And I don't, but I choose to sleep during most nights. It's relaxing.”

“At least you don't watch me sleep,” Jensen mumbles to himself, then opens the fridge – ignoring Misha's legs dangling in his line of sight – and pulls out eggs and bacon.

“My name's not Edward,” Misha deadpans.

His dry humor actually makes Jensen chuckle.

“But to be fair, I did watch you jerk off more times than I can count. What can I say, it's really hard not to watch.”

Jensen almost snorts out his coffee through his nose.

“Alright, spill,” Danneel says while dropping a big-ass pile of folders onto his desk on Monday morning. “What happened?”

“What do you mean 'what happened'?” Jensen throws back, unimpressed. He eyes the folders wearily; last time, she left them for him to sort through, which turned out to be tedious as fuck.

“You've got that thinking face,” Danneel quirks an eyebrow and hops up onto the desktop, balancing precariously on one well-rounded ass cheek. “That usually means you've gotten laid and can't find a way to ask the guy for a date or something big happened and you don't know how to deal with it. So fess up.”

Jensen shrugs, the fabric of his white lab coat stirring with the movement. However, that doesn't answer Danneel's question.

“Jay?” She shoots him a warning glare.

Jensen looks up at her and shrugs again, even though he knows he won't get away with it.

Danneel just sits and waits, leaning on her left hand and staring at him.

Eventually, Jensen groans and gives up. “I see monsters.”

“You see monsters?” she returns with a puzzled expression.

“Yeah, like, tiny, colorful monsters, since the initiation ritual on Saturday night. Apparently, most wizards do. They're not scary or anything, just... there. I've got a red worm permanently wrapped around my left leg because he likes it there so much. Or something.”

“Well, can't you just pull it off?”

Jensen shakes his head and rubs his eyes. “No, I can't touch them, not even with magic, since they live in another realm, like, the realm beyond.”

“How do you know?” Danneel asks amused.

“Professor Padalecki told us,” Jensen sighs and pauses before he continues. “Also, there's a guy who lives in my apartment, his name's Misha.”

“A guy? A realm-dweller?”

“Yes.”

Danneel smirks at that and teases, “So you did meet someone.”

Another groan wrings its way out of Jensen's throat. “No. Yes. It's not like that. He's a fucking ghost!”

“Alright,” Danneel ponders, nodding her head. “So, what now?”

“I gotta get used to it,” Jensen states. “I mean, most of the time, it's not that bad. It's just the red worm and some strange things here and there, and my apartment is, like, swarmed with them. Plus, Misha.”

Jensen leans back in his chair to look into their boss' office – Vicki is out, though, somewhere, and can't catch them slacking off. She knew him from his internships during college and had offered him a job at Aperture long before he graduated.

He's on good terms with Vicki, but it's not like he wants to put them to the test.

Jensen drops his head to his chest. “I have no idea how to deal with the monsters crap.”

Danneel giggles at that. “And with the guy living in your apartment crap.”

“That too. He told me he watched me jerk off 'more times than he could count', can you believe that?” Jensen frowns. “Because 'it's hard not to'.”

“Well I can get behind that,” Danneel says, winking at him.

That's the moment Vicki opens the door to the lab, and as soon as the doors click open, Danneel hops down onto her feet with a grace Jensen admires.

She grins like the Cheshire cat.

Evening classes start to get complicated soon.

Jared works them over pretty much every Saturday and never looks back, only to tell them that they're going to be able to do this in their sleep some time soon.

After another two hours of trying to get wooden spoons to levitate and spin – and failing, as the visible bump in the ceiling above Felicia's desk proves – Felicia drops her head onto her desk.

“I know why I don't do this professionally,” she sighs, then looks after Jared, who waves goodbye and makes a beeline for the door. Their class is blessedly over.

With a dreamy sigh, she tears her eyes away from his backside. “The only good thing about all this. Seriously. Hate to see him leave but love to watch him go,” she mumbles, then adds with a raised index finger and a squinty look, “In more ways than one.”

Jensen breaks out into a surprised laughing fit.

“I know what you mean,” Jensen chuckles.

A smirk plays around the edges of her lips as Felicia collects her pens and notebook from the table, stuffing them into her backpack. “What, you'd turn straight for him, too?”

Jensen grins at that wordlessly.

“Well,” he eventually says. “Not necessary. Unfortunately, my source says he has a wife.”

Felicia sighs again and waits for Jensen to finish packing, her backpack already slung around her right shoulder. “It's always the straight ones, isn't it?”

Jensen rolls his eyes and Felicia laughs, a pearly, genuine sound that makes Jensen's heart jump with fondness.

“How did you know?” he asks Felicia, curious.

“Takes one to know one,” she shrugs and smiles. “Hey, you wanna grab a coffee or something?”

Since it's not like he's got anything better to do than hang out at his apartment with his roommate, the realm-dweller, Jensen agrees in an instant.

The following Thursday, Danneel puts two mugs of coffee onto Jensen's desk, a safe distance from his keyboard, and hops up onto the desktop like she does every morning. “So, what do you wanna do for date night?”

“Same thing we do every Friday night, Pinky,” Jensen answers with his voice pitched deeper and rougher, then wiggles his eyebrows. “Try to take over the world.”

“Yeah, right, I forgot,” Danneel plays along, rolls her eyes, and looks completely adorable doing so. “There was that thing we had. Rescuing the world from Locust and stuff.”

“And stuff,” Jensen grins. “Your place?”

“Sure.”

Date night was invented around the beginning of their sophomore year, after Danneel broke up with her last boyfriend and Jensen broke up with Ty, and Jensen needed to find something to distract her from the usual Friday nights that she had always spent at Chad's house.

“Let's go on a friend date,” Jensen had said, back then, then took Danneel to dinner and a movie, and she was smiling by the end of the night.

Sometime after their fifth date, Jensen was wasted enough to make Danneel try to sleep with him, to prove a point to himself. Danneel was wasted enough to agree.

Ever since then, when somebody notes that he just might not have found the right girl yet, Jensen likes to point out that Danneel once humped his leg in nothing but a black satiny g-string and didn't get so much as a huff out of him. Jensen had been too busy staring shocked at Danneel's boobs, and not in the appreciative way.

The whole night is a bit fuzzy for both of them, but Jensen still remembers focusing on her eyes while retrieving the leg that was currently humped on, and telling her, “Danni, you're my best friend and I love you and your boobs are awesome, but please, please, put them back in a bra?”

Anyway, after that, date night has been best friend night and nothing more.

And lately, it was also Xbox and Gears of War night.

That Friday, Misha waves him goodbye when Jensen leaves. He doesn't like going out, Jensen noticed, and he makes a mental note to ask Misha about it later.

Danneel wouldn't be able to see Misha anyway, so there wouldn't be much of a point for him to come with.

An hour later finds them in front of Danneel's TV with controllers in their hands, Danneel stretched out on the tiny sofa and Jensen sprawled on the worn-out beanbag chair, replaying the scene they hadn't made it past the last time around, a package of Cheetos on the table in front of them.

When they both die and have to restart for the third time, Danneel sighs heavily.

“What's up?” Jensen asks, unable to look away from the TV, but also feeling that something is off with her.

“Honestly?” she says on the exhale, and Jensen notices that her character doesn't move on the screen any more. “I'm not much into the game tonight.”

“You don't say,” Jensen deadpans, but when he pauses and looks over, he finds her lying on her belly with her chin on her entwined arms.

“Are you alright?” Jensen asks while he shuts down the game system and the TV set.

“Yeah,” Danneel answers, too seriously, then, “Actually no. I'm feeling lonely, I guess.”

Jensen doesn't have a good answer for that, so he bites his lip instead.

“Not that I don't like having you around, Jay, but, yeah. It's not the same.”

On a whim, Jensen simply crawls up onto the couch, stretches out as much as he can, and wraps her up in his arms, holds her close and tight. She runs her hands up his back and clasps them around his shoulders.

“I know what you mean,” he admits.

Danneel snorts and teases him, “Oh please, you've got your ghost boyfriend.”

“He's not a ghost, and he's not my boyfriend,” Jensen rolls his eyes, although amused. “He's not even real, like, not even from this realm.”

“But you've got someone to come home to.”

She tilts her head to the side, her eyes big and a bit glassy.

Jensen smiles and turns serious. “Dee, be patient. There's gonna come a time when someone, a lovely, fantastic someone, will ride into town, steal your heart, and sweep you off your feet.”

This time, Danneel rolls her eyes. “Only a hopeless romantic like you would say that.”

“Well, I believe in the good in people,” Jensen states, his voice strong and confident even if he has to admit that he doesn't see that scenario for himself.

When Jensen returns home that night, Misha is sitting perched on his TV, and it speaks for Jensen's adaptability that he doesn't even flinch any more when he sees him. Really, it's kind of scary, how easy it is to get used to a roommate that's not existing in the same realm.

“You have a thing for sitting atop things, right?” Jensen throws in Misha's direction by way of greeting and adds a grin for good measure.

“Maybe,” Misha answers, his pronunciation making it seem like part of the sentence is missing.

Jensen looks up from where he untangles his door keys, just to find Misha wink at him with a smirk.

“I'm not really insisting on being on top, but there's always another way of, you know. Being on top.”

The roll of Misha's translucent hips couldn't be more obvious.

Jensen raises an eyebrow and pretends that Misha's comment doesn't spark thoughts. “Really?”

Misha chuckles, “Oh come on, that was a perfect opportunity. It would've been a sin not to use it.”

Jensen snorts.

“You're no fun,” Misha mock-pouts.

“Clearly,” Jensen agrees, flops down on the couch and reaches for the remote.

“Oh!” Misha jumps down to Jensen's level and occupies the sofa beside him. “Are we watching The Real Housewives? Man, I wish there was popcorn in the realm.”

Wordlessly, Jensen flicks on the TV and wonders where in life he should've turned left instead of right to not end up watching TV with a realm dweller at two in the morning.

Then he looks at Misha, whose shining blue eyes are focused on the TV.

Maybe that right turn wasn't all that bad, Jensen isn't sure.

The next morning, right after Jensen has filled his travel mug to the brim with coffee, a thought hits him.

“Hey, Misha,” he calls out to his permanent roommate, who's probably watching the sunrise from the roof or something, and wiggles his left foot, because that always makes his red worm purr with pleasure.

It takes Misha less than ten seconds to drift through the ceiling of the kitchen. “Hey, you,” he smiles.

“I've got a question for you,” Jensen starts and pauses, waits for Misha's nod. “What do you do all day? Hang out in the apartment when I'm not here?”

“Oh, god, no,” Misha chuckles. “That would be boring. Remember, I can't even turn on the TV.”

“But then what? I never see you coming around to college with me, but there'd be more wizards to talk to than little old me, you know.”

“I won't take one step into that building, not in this lifetime,” Misha laughs. He sounds bitter, and Jensen wonders about the obvious history behind that, but doesn't dare ask.

“How about the lab?” Jensen throws in instead. “Come to work with me. There aren't any wizards there.”

“Your work?” Misha shoots back, surprised. “Well, I was there once or twice, but it's not that interesting.”

“But now that you know me, I can talk to you. So that's different, isn't it? Plus, you haven't met Danni yet. Not officially at least.”

Misha shakes his head. “She can't see me anyway.”

A thought hits Jensen, so obvious that he has no idea how it hasn't come to his mind before. “But I can. And I can talk to you. And she can--”

Understanding lights up on Misha's face. “-- talk to you. Get it.”

“So, what do you say?”

Misha worries his lips for a second or two, then nods and follows Jensen to his car with a wide smile on his face. It's downright adorable, Jensen finds himself thinking.

“Danni, l brought someone today,” Jensen says twenty minutes later in lieu of a 'good morning' to his best friend.

“Oh, who is it?” she says as she turns around from her monitor, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, then frowns. “Jay, there's no one here except you.”

Misha pouts and goes to look over her shoulder.

“It's Misha,” Jensen explains with a grin. “He's reading your report.”

“That wasn't a report, that was--” she breaks off, then flails her arms out in a three foot radius around her. “Stop that, Misha!”

Meanwhile, Misha is chuckling. “A fan website, that's interesting.”

Jensen looks at him, cocks an eyebrow.

“Alright,” Misha nods, getting the message. He walks around the lab, taking in everything, touching and grasping through flasks and bottles.

“Is he gone?”

“Yes, he's gone, Danni,” Jensen reassures her with a nod in the vague direction of Misha's current location.

“I'm sorry!”

“--He's sorry,” Jensen adds, giving Misha's words to Danneel.

“Apology accepted,” she grouses, but then smiles. “Anyways, nice to meet you, wherever you are.”

“Nice to meet you too!” Misha chirps from somewhere behind a desk with an experimental setup on it. A brown fluid is boiling and running into a plain cup at the end of a spiral tube. “What's this?”

“Vicki's coffee machine,” Jensen answers. “Her pet project.”

It goes on like that for a while until Vicki arrives and they eventually have to start working. Misha keeps asking all kinds of things about Jensen's work and experiments, and Danneel gets used to Jensen talking to thin air. Except when Vicki is around, because she has no idea that there's a realm-dweller constantly staring at her whenever she's near.

“Damn,” Misha whistles when she almost runs through him on her way out of the lab and into the storage room, her lab coat flowing around her legs. “How did no one 'tap that', as you kids say these days?”

Jensen shrugs. “Neither of us is into women.”

Danneel cackles at that, apparently having guessed the question.

“Well he seems interested,” Misha tilts his head toward the red worm who's currently uncurling himself from Jensen's left leg and making his way towards the door where Vicki just vanished.

“Oh, wormy?” Jensen laughs. “He'll be disappointed to notice she can't see him.”

“You seriously call him 'wormy'?” Misha shoots him a skeptical look.

Jensen shrugs. “Do you have a better idea? I mean, I thought about Hugo--”

“That's obviously a dragon's name, not a worm's.”

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

Jensen shakes his head. “Or Mushu, since he's red, but--”

“--that would also be a dragon and Mushu sounds too much like my name,” Misha interrupts him. “Denied.”

Jensen just stares at him, “So?”

Misha floats down from where he was seated atop their book shelf and collects the worm, letting him curl around his fingers, then raises him to his face.

“Are you gonna eat him?” Jensen asks, curious and amused.

“I'm not gonna eat him,” Misha deadpans, “I'm gonna wear him as a wormstache.”

Jensen promptly doubles over with a surprised laughing fit and can't stop for about a minute or five. Meanwhile, Misha makes a duckface and actually balances the worm on his upper lip. Wormy seems happy and curls into a hilarious curve, his head and tail pointing upwards. It does nothing to ease Jensen's fit.

When Jensen looks up at Misha, who still plays with the worm and his fingers, there's a familiar feeling curling in Jensen's stomach. It's not the first time in the past weeks since Jensen became a wizard, but it's the first time Jensen can't ignore it any more.

He could really, really get used to Misha like this.

Misha is gentle and has a sharp, quick wit that always catches Jensen off guard. He has a blinding, beautiful grin and full, very kissable lips, and don't even get him started on those blue, blue eyes.

If Jensen didn't know any better, he'd say he's kind of gone for the guy.

Except for the part where Misha is not living in Jensen's realm of existence. So, well, Jensen doesn't, in fact, know any better.

“I'm gonna call him Willy,” Misha decides then, with a soft smile and a tilt of his head. He looks adorable like this, and Jensen finds himself staring, imagining, lost in his head and Misha's eyes.

“Just so I can refer to 'you and your Willy' when talking about him,” Misha adds and the moment is gone, and so is Jensen, taken by another fit of giggles.

Then he realizes a very embarrassing detail.

“Oh my god,” he wheezes, feeling embarrassment creeping up his spine. “You saw me--”

“--and your Willy?” Misha finishes the sentence for him.

Jensen presses his hand onto his mouth, feeling heat spread on his cheeks. He quickly turns his back on Danneel, who eyes him curiously.

Misha shrugs and grins easily. “Yeah, I did. Couple times, actually.”

“Damnit,” Jensen curses under his breath. To be fair, Misha had mentioned it before, but Jensen had been in shock pretty much for the whole day and the full meaning of it only dawns on him right now.

“And when Danni and you--”

Jensen interrupts him this time. “Don't even start,” he mumbles as he covers his eyes with his hands.

“That really should've been a good clue that you're not actually into women,” Misha teases. “That, and the first time you took a vibrator up your ass and came so hard you stared at the ceiling for five minutes. You know, if it hadn't been a long awaited life-changing revelation, I would've started to worry.”

Jensen just groans, feeling flustered and embarrassed. If he could, he'd have the ground open up under him and swallow him whole, but he wouldn't be able to work the spell even if he knew it. If it existed at all. He can't even turn himself invisible, though he knows that it's possible.

Misha hums, lost in thought, pulling Jensen out of his own thoughts. “God, that was hot as hell, though,” he states with emphasis.

Suddenly, Jensen doesn't feel half as embarrassed any more. Instead, there's pride and arousal welling up inside him, and he finds himself whispering. “Really?”

“Well, d'uh,” Misha says. “Have you looked at yourself lately? Damn straight that was hot, seeing you on that bed, stretched out so good, I would've--”

“Misha, stop,” Jensen whines, begging for mercy. His cock is definitely in on the game, pushing hard against the inside of his boxers. “I need to get some actual work done here.”

“Stop flirting, you two,” Danneel scolds them from the sidelines, a smirk playing around the edges of her lips, and Jensen has almost forgotten about her. “Jensen's right, there is work to be done, so get to it.”

Jensen has never done anything she requested that fast. But the rest of the day, he feels Misha's eyes on him a bit more intense than before.

He can't say he doesn't like it.

“Why don't you invite Felicia to come with us to date night?” Danneel offers, when they're munching on some Thai food on Tuesday.

“But-” Jensen starts, chokes on a piece of beef, swallows and coughs, then says with tears in his eyes, “Date night is for losers like us who can't find the man of their heart. Where does a lesbian fit in there? Not that I have much reason to object, just, you know. Checking your statutes.”

“Oh, I'm fine with that,” Danneel laughs with a noodle hanging out the edge of her lips. “We definitely have room for a lesbian. Is she single?”

“Yeah, she is,” Jensen answers. “Not like it would be of any interest to you.”

“Shut up, I'm being concerned and interested in my acquaintances,” she dismisses him, then stuffs her mouth with a huge fork full of noodles and curry chicken and talks with her mouth full. Some things will never change. “Call it curious or nosy, I don't care.”

“Alright, then. Pretty sure you'll get along very well.”

Danneel grins. “If you just talk to her about me as much as you do the other way around, then I have no worries, either.” 

The moment Felicia and Danneel meet seems a bit strange to Jensen, if only because he feels like a bystander when the really important things in the world happen. Somehow, seeing the witch and the scientist meet for the first time is like watching worlds collide.

Danneel's grin is wide and inviting when she holds out her hand to Felicia. “Nice to meet you,” she says, “I'm Danni.”

“I've heard so much about you,” Felicia laughs and takes her hand to shake it firmly. “Jensen never once mentioned that gorgeous dye job though. What is it?”

“Henna,” Danneel answers, obviously delighted, and twirls her hair around her finger. “And don't expect him to notice these things. He's gay, but still a guy.”

Jensen shrugs, feeling helpless, but the women don't even pay attention to him as they fall into an easy conversation. With a sigh, he heads for the kitchen to get them some beer.

They watch two comedy movies that night, and they have a blast ripping off Adam Sandler and Owen Wilson, guessing what slapstick joke is going to be played next and how high it will be on the secondhand embarrassment scale they invented. While the girls chatter and crack jokes, Jensen finds himself sitting beside them with a permanent grin on his face – it's a joy to listen to their quick back-and-forth of dry humor and wit. Jensen enjoys it a lot. It's great to see his two best friends in the world get along so well, but he can't help but feel a bit weird when he returns home at 3 a.m.

“So, how was date night?” Misha asks from his spot, hanging upside down on the curtain rod of Jensen's living room. Again.

“Good,” Jensen sighs and falls onto his couch face first.

Misha frowns. “Alright, spill. What's wrong?”

Jensen shoots him a glare, but admits, “I felt like the third wheel. The girls really like each other, and don't get me wrong, that's great. I guess I just didn't expect _that_.”

With a somersault in mid-air, Misha dismounts the curtain rod and sits down on the floor in front of Jensen, tilting his head in a way that makes him look like a little puppy. A cute, adorable little puppy.

“Sorry to hear that,” Misha says, lost in thought. “Anything I can do?”

“Nah,” Jensen tries to smile, but guesses it seems self-depreciating, “You're doing enough by being here already.”

“Of course, where else would I be at this time of night,” Misha returns the smile.

“I dunno,” Jensen shrugs and averts his eyes. “What do realm-dwellers do if they don't need to sleep? Hook up with someone among them?”

That makes Misha frown. “You do realize it's just me?”

“What?”

“Just me. There's no other formerly human realm-dwellers.”

“You're all alone in there with a bunch of this?” Jensen asks in disbelief, pointing at Willy curled around his ankle.

Misha nods. “Yeah.”

For a moment, Jensen is speechless. “Wow. It must be lonely in there.”

Misha tilts his head to the other side and catches Jensen's eyes again. He looks sad and touched in a place that Jensen wasn't supposed to reach. “Well, that was the general idea,” Misha's answer is flat and toneless.

“The idea of what?”

“Of banning me,” Misha adds.

“Banning you? To the realm? Why would someone do that?” Once again, Jensen finds himself shocked.

In the quiet night, Misha looks all too solemn when he says, “Because I was a witch.”

“You're a wizard?” Jensen asks in disbelief.

Misha shakes his head, smiles lopsided. “No, not like that. A witch. In 17th  century Europe, you generally were burned for that on a stick.”

Jensen eyes him surprised. “So, what, you were burned on a stick?”

For a moment, Misha hesitates, then nods.

“Holy shit. And were you? A wizard, I mean?”

“Hell no,” Misha huffs. “That'd have made my life a lot easier. No, I was selling snake oil to make a living back then. I called it Serpessence. Herbal essences and potions against all kinds of stuff. Then I went on my merry way to the next village.”

“You were a gypsy?” Jensen is unable to hide his amusement at that. He can totally picture Misha in his mind, with a wooden cart and all kinds of weird stuff that promised miracle healing.

“An alchemist, thank you very much,” Misha throws back.

“Alchemy?” Jensen snorts, barely able to hold back his laughter at this point. “Really? And, did you find the philosopher's stone?”

“Ha-ha,” Misha retorts, pretending to be grumpy, “No, but I managed to sell the stuff I made and had something to eat at the end of the day.”

Jensen nods in understanding, sobering up. “So what went wrong?”

“I angered a wizard. An actual wizard, who was so influential that no one would've believed if someone claimed him to be a magician. But yeah, I sold him some of my all-healing essence and surprise, it didn't work. How could I have known that he wanted to save his daughter's life with it. I could've told him that wouldn't work.”

“And so he called you a witch, watched you get burned, and banned you?”

Misha nods. “Pretty much.”

“Wow. That's… basically murder.”

Misha sighs, then, and rests his chin on Jensen's knee, smiles weakly. “Well. It's kinda been four hundred years since then. So there's nothing I can do about it now.”

Jensen hums, ignores the tingling where Misha's translucent skin meets his own knee, and watches the slow blinking of Misha's eyes, thick dark lashes fanning over his cheeks. “Do you think there's a way the ban could be lifted? So you at least can move on and be at peace?”

Misha fixes him with a playful glare. “You wanna get rid of me, Jay?”

Jensen shrugs, playing along, “I could do without someone watching and following me day and night, without my knowledge, for years,“ he grins. “I think I can put up with you though.”

“And I need someone I can live vicariously through,” Misha jokes.

“Because I'm someone you can live vicariously through?” Jensen snorts. “Little old, permanently dissatisfied and indecisive me. Not to mention I get laid like twice a year.”

“I could go into detail about why you're right in so many ways,” Misha grins with mischief flickering in his eyes. “But I won't. Because it doesn't matter, because I like being here with you.”

Unable to help himself, Jensen smiles and lowers his head, feeling heat spreading on his face.

“Also, please tell me Richard last year was just a pity fuck?”

That has Jensen laugh out loud. “It didn't start as one, but it ended like one for sure. I don't like it when someone constantly gushes about how 'delicious' and 'pretty' my cock is.”

Misha smirks and bites his cheeks, but doesn't say a thing. “Anyway, to get off that slippery slope,” he says bemused, “Who says I want to lift the ban? It's not so bad, you know, living in the realm. For one, I can climb Mount Everest without fear of dying.”

Jensen quirks an eyebrow. “You ever climbed Mount Everest?”

Misha shrugs his right shoulder and winks. “It gets kinda boring after the twelfth time. However, Reinhold Messner would be proud.”

Jensen chuckles and looks down at his hands. His fingertips itch to touch Misha, run his hand over his hair, his cheek, to soothe him. Over what, Jensen has no idea, but Misha looks troubled.

“But you can't touch anyone,” Jensen objects. “Doesn't that suck?”

Misha huffs at that and drops his gaze. “It does.”

They are both quiet for a minute, just staring into space and thinking.

“If you had the chance,” Jensen starts slowly after a while, fixing Misha with his eyes, “to return from the realm and live a normal, mortal life, would you take it?”

“I don't know,” Misha replies, and sounds genuine. “I'm used to this. I forget what the other side was like.”

Jensen smiles and runs his hand over Misha's head – over the air that is in the same space as Misha's hair. He doesn't feel a thing, just thin air. Not the tickle of hair against his palm, not the strands giving way to his fingers, not the warm skin underneath.

Misha closes his eyes and shudders.

“That's the other side,” Jensen says, his voice breaking mid-sentence.

“How about we go to bed,” Misha interrupts the moment and levitates. He doesn't wait for Jensen to answer, simply exits the room through the wall towards Jensen's bedroom, his arms hanging by his side.

Jensen drops his head against the back rest of the sofa and groans with frustration, even though he can't put his finger on why he feels so frustrated.

Sunday mornings are Jensen's favorite. He can sleep in, he's not hung over from date night and he has had his weekly lesson of magic stuff the night before.

When Jensen wakes up to the sun shining through the gap in his blinds two days later, he stretches, bumps the headboard of his bed with both arms, then sighs and burrows deeper into the sheets. Willy peeks out from under the covers, but curls back into his usual position around Jensen's ankle after some tired blinking. The blue fuzzball that Misha likes to carry around and tickle has rolled under the radiator to snuggle with the pink blob that lives there.

Just like every Sunday.

It's still early, so Jensen decides to sleep a little longer – which almost works, if he couldn't feel his cock, hard and heavy where it curves up against his belly. It's distracting and tempting.

With a groan, Jensen slips his right hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, wraps his thumb and index finger around the base in a loose grip. He's gonna take care of this, then hopefully catch another hour or two. Which is, hands down, the most enjoyable part about Sunday morning jerk-off sessions. That he has all the time he needs, that he can drag it out if he wants, or make it quick and dirty.

Today, it's something in-between. Quick and dirty doesn't really cut it, even though Jensen feels so on edge already, but his brain is still a little fuzzy from sleep and that's a delicious state to get himself off in.

Jensen throws off the blanket with his spare hand, then tugs down his boxers as far as necessary. A soundless gasp escapes his lips when he strokes all the way up his shaft for the first time, the feeling of tight fingers around the sensitive tip enough to remind him how long it's been since he's gotten laid during the last months. Still, it's good like this. Really fucking good. Jensen teases himself with slow, deliberate strokes, lets his thumb run over the slit of his cock, spreads the precome that gathered there over the head.

With his eyes pressed shut, it's even better. That way, he can focus on the sensations of his fingertips gliding over velvety skin, teasing the ridge of his frenulum, of the delicious push and pull into the palm of his hand, warm and comforting and familiar.

Jensen groans, a sound rolling from deep within his chest.

“Good morning to you, too,” an amused voice interrupts him.

Jensen's eyes fly open, only to find Misha floating in the doorway with a huge grin on his face. “Misha!”

In shock, he pulls the covers up as quickly as possible, winces at the cool sheets sliding against his overheated skin.

“Sorry,” Misha smirks and it's pretty obvious how insincere his apology is. “Didn't mean to startle you, just didn't think you'd be up so early and busy with that.”

“Well I was,” Jensen stutters. “Now would you leave, please?” he adds, although he can't decide whether to be angry about the interruption or not.

“Or...” Misha trails off, then approaches the bed. “Can I help?”

“What?” Jensen yelps, feels his pulse thrumming in his veins. “Are you-- how?”

Misha shrugs and kneels down on the bed, straddling Jensen's hips, the bulge on the front of his pants on display. “There are ways and means, you know.”

“And why would I-- why would you--” Way too early for this, Jensen groans, more to himself. Still, the picture of Misha sitting there, right in Jensen's lap, is killing him with its hotness.

“Because I want to,” Misha says with a smile. “Simple as that. If you want to give it a shot, just let me know.” And with that, he floats upwards, grabs the sleepy blue fluffball from under the radiator, and leaves Jensen alone in his bed.

Leaves him alone with a lot of confusion to deal with, with a throbbing cock that's pushing against the blanket, and with the mental image of Misha sitting across his hips, riding his dick until he's coming all over Jensen's chest.

It takes Jensen three strokes up his cock to come so fast it's almost embarrassing, shooting dirty white stripes up his stomach as his hips stutter with his relief. He doesn't hold back his satisfied moan, refuses to feel ashamed by it.

“Sounded like a good one!” Misha comments from two or three rooms over.

“Oh, shut your face,” Jensen chuckles low in his throat. Somehow, Misha catching him doesn't bother him as much as Jensen feels like it should.

“I heard that!”

Later, when Jensen lounges in the living room with a cup of coffee beside him on the couch, Misha again appears out of nowhere.

“Jensen,” he whines, then flops right down on the spot where Jensen's coffee cup sits.

Jensen thinks it only speaks for how much he’s gotten used to his realm-dweller that he doesn't even flinch. Then he picks up the cup, reaching right through Misha's body, and takes a sip before catching Misha's gaze. “Yeah?”

“I'm bored,” Misha announces with a frown. “Let's do something.”

“It's Sunday, you can't expect me to go out today,” Jensen quirks an eyebrow.

“No, but... just, anything.”

Jensen lets his eyes travel over his living room. There's not much they can do – with Danneel and Felicia, it's mostly playing video games, and he can't do that with Misha. The Real Housewives aren't on, either, and they already watched the last episode that Jensen had TeVo'd.

Then his eyes land on the dusty box of mixed board games.

“Do you know how to play chess?” Jensen asks, and Misha looks at him like he's had the revelation of his life.

“Of course I do! You, too?” he replies, delighted, his grin splitting his face almost in two.

Jensen scratches the back of his neck. “Uh, no, actually. Can you teach me?”

And so, Jensen ends up placing chess pieces to Misha's orders and listening to his instructions. Misha wins six times in a row, but Jensen is having too much fun to mind.

Plus, Misha's devious smile at having outplayed him is kind of hot.

“Dee, what's up?” Jensen gasps five days later, as soon as he has closed the door of Danneel's apartment behind himself.

“Basically?” Danneel hurries through the hallway in a lacy g-string and a matching bra and Jensen has to blink three times to focus. “I've got ten minutes and no idea what to wear.”

Jensen stares at her in disbelief, gobsmacked. “You said it was an emergency!”

“It is an emergency!” Waving two dresses around – one blue and flowy, the other covered in pink and purple stripes – Danneel looks at him expectantly. “This is important, believe me. So, which one?”

“The--” Jensen breaks off and gestures at the purple one. “That, your tits look fantastic in that, but still-- I thought this was an actual emergency,” he adds, then runs his hands through his messed-up hair. That's what you get for cycling to your best friend's home as fast as possible.

A catcall from behind himself reminds Jensen that Misha had followed him, panicking just as much. Danneel is busy pulling the tight shift dress over her head, a frown knitting her brows.

“I'm sorry, Jay,” she says while smoothing the dress down her body. “I really am. I didn't mean to make you worry. Could you get the zipper?”

Jensen lets his head drop back and sighs, then steps forward to tug the zipper at her side up. “It's alright.”

“Looking sharp,” Misha flies a circle around her, eyeing her up and down. “Tell her she looks absolutely stunning.”

“Misha says you look absolutely stunning,” Jensen relays, exasperated.

“Thanks, Misha,” Danneel smiles and doesn't even pretend to know where Misha is. She just looks down as she picks at tiny folds beneath her breasts and around her hips, straightening them out.

“Look,” Jensen starts, “Can we just... not do this thing where we beat around the bush? Because out of the two of us, you're the fashion queen and you've been on way more dates than I have. So what's really going on?”

Danneel still stares at the floor, the smile twitching on her lips. “It's important,” she eventually repeats with a firm voice. “It's different this time. And I needed you.”

She looks so vulnerable and fragile for a moment that Jensen hugs her on impulse. “Don't worry, it'll be alright. Especially if it's different.”

“Thank you.”

“Good luck,” Jensen pulls back, lets his eyes wander over her from head to toe. “I have no worries whatsoever that he's gonna be completely swept off his feet.”

Danneel kisses his cheek with a strange glint in her eye, but seems genuinely at ease when they part at the bus stop, Jensen getting his bike and returning to his apartment with Misha in tow, Danneel taking the bus downtown.

“Tonight would've been our date night,” Jensen grouses when he's back on his couch. “Great.”

“Why don't you call Felicia?” Misha suggests from where he's floating beside Jensen.

Jensen ponders for a moment, but can't think of one good reason why he shouldn't. So he gets out his phone and makes a quick call.

Felicia picks up after the sixth ring, when Jensen already considers hanging up again.

“Hey,” he says instead. “What do you say to losers watching something with lots of robots and explosions tonight? I bought Pacific Rim for us yesterday.”

“I, uh, sorry. Sorry, Jay. I can't, I have a... uh, a thing,” Felicia stutters into the phone, which is so unlike her that it makes Jensen wonder.

“What, you on a date? First Danni is flipping out and you... oh well. Raincheck?”

“Raincheck,” Felicia agrees, but sounds strained.

That makes Jensen perk up. “You alright?”

“Yeah, uh. I am.”

“Have fun tonight. Stay safe. Beware of chicks with softball bats,” Jensen jokes.

“Thanks, I will, and you have fun with your Crisco,” Felicia throws back without missing a beat.

Jensen laughs and hangs up, but his laughter dies on his lips two seconds after he pockets his phone.

Misha seems quiet as well that night, which is odd.

And Jensen wonders.

Jensen is sulking, he knows it, and he feels shitty about it.

“You're sulking,” Misha states from somewhere behind him. Probably on top of the living room shelf again, his new favorite spot.

“I know,” Jensen grouses.

“Why are you sulking?”

“'Cause I'm a miserable bastard,” Jensen states, unfazed.

“Anything I can do to help?” Misha offers, then floats down to sit on the floor in front of Jensen.

“Nah. Let me sulk in peace?”

“I hate it when you sulk,” Misha admits and grabs the blue fluffball, who squeals delightedly at being tickled. “Plus, you look way better with a smile on your face.”

Jensen quirks an eyebrow. “Really, Misha?”

“What?” Misha asks, the picture of innocence, and throws the blue ball at Jensen, like they're playing catch.

Promptly, Jensen takes the bait and reaches out to catch it, but of course it flies right through his hands.

Misha snickers.

“Poor Fluffy,” Jensen says to the ball who looks very unhappy and confused as he rolls around on the floor. “I'm sorry, you can take your complaints to Misha.”

Fluffy shoots him a dirty look when he finally comes to a stand, then turns around to roll towards Misha, tapping against his foot multiple times.

“Alright, alright,” Misha gives in. “Sorry. Won't do that again.”

Fluffy seems satisfied, rolls under the radiator and buries his face in the pink blob.

“You're good at derailing the topic of discussion,” Jensen remarks, amused.

“It's a gift,” Misha shrugs and smiles, his brilliant, open smile that has his teeth shining. “Thought you didn't want to talk about it.”

“You're right, I don't.”

Misha sits up straighter in front of Jensen, crosses his feet in front of him to lounge back, his body stretched out and relaxed. “Then remind me why you picked up the thread of conversation again?”

Jensen shrugs, then stands up to get something to drink.

“Don't think you'll get away with it now!” Misha yells after him, a smirk audible in his voice.

After picking up a bottle of water from the fridge, Jensen returns to the living room and his spot from before. He takes a long look at Willy, who's asleep, and out the window. The sky is cloudy with autumn slowly becoming winter and thick raindrops falling from the sky.

Jensen surrenders. “Why do you... feel the need to be here?”

Misha looks taken aback, his eyes taking on an irritated glint. “What do you mean?”

“I-- No, I didn't mean it like that,” Jensen sighs again, then rubs his hands over his eyes. “I'm sorry. I meant... you're a free spirit. You could be anywhere you want, with anyone you wanted. But you're spending all this time with my miserable ass.”

“Believe me, I don't mind your ass at all,” Misha waggles his eyebrows.

“Yeah, and about that,” Jensen can't help but smile lopsided. “The hitting on me. Why?”

“Because I want to,” Misha answers, his smile having turned stiff. “...and because an unattainable crush is a safe crush,” he adds quieter, looking at Jensen through his lashes.

It takes Jensen a moment to process that piece of information. Eventually, he clears his throat and says, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Misha replies tight-lipped. His eyes are wide open, the blue of them seeming even more surreal than they already are. Hope is shining in them, and the revelation that he probably shouldn't have said that. Panic, Jensen realizes.

“You have a crush on me,” Jensen states, just to have said it out loud.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Oh, now you're just fishing for compliments,” Misha reprimands him with a fond and exasperated glance.

Jensen grins. “Maybe.”

“I won't answer that,” Misha says, shaking his head, “Not like this.”

“Then how would you?” Jensen teases, notices that his voice is rough around the edges. “Or when?”

Misha taps his index finger against his plush bottom lip, pondering. When he starts to nibble at his fingertip, he catches Jensen's eyes and winks. “A situation or two comes to mind. Let's just say there should be something in it for me, too.”

Jensen is suddenly and not so inexplicably hard in his pants, but it still feels weird, this whole thing. “I'll keep that in mind.”

Misha looks almost disappointed when he notices Jensen's withdrawal.

“But it can't be the only reason why you're spending all your time here, haunting my house.”

Misha sighs at Jensen's tease. “It's not, okay?”

After a long pull from his bottle, Jensen still remains there on the couch, waiting for Misha to answer. He doesn't prompt, doesn't push, lets Misha find the words he wants to say.

“I feel something, a kind of connection, if you will, towards you,” Misha admits. “I felt it since the first time I saw you, and I can’t figure it out. We have nothing in common. I'm not a wizard, you don't speak Russian. You despise alchemy, I look down on chemistry and I know it.”

Jensen tilts his head and thinks about that. “But we are alike in the fact that we both are interested in elements reacting towards each other. Alchemy was just the beginning of chemistry and laid some important stepping stones. However, some of it was bullshit, you can't deny that.”

“No, I can't. Some of it was indeed bullshit, I give you that,” Misha nods. “But there's also a lot more.”

“A lot more bullshit,” Jensen huffs amused.

“Yeah, not so much, if you ask me,” Misha grumbles. “Sure, the ties to astrology are debatable, but there's truth in the elements being connected to the state of your soul and the process of chemistry cleansing it. You don't know how true it is until you've experienced it.”

“You're passionate about this,” Jensen notes, impressed.

“Of course, it's one of the few things that stayed with me during the last four hundred years.”

“Can you teach me about it?” Jensen asks on a whim. “Because I definitely have an idea about what to do with all that info.”

“You do?”

Jensen grins. “I've still got a dissertation to write and I don't have a clue where to begin. There was never a topic that caught my attention long enough to stick or inspire me.”

Misha's eyes begin to shine. “So, Alchemy?”

“Fuck yeah, Alchemy,” Jensen whoops and goes to get his notebook. Seems like he found a good use for this lazy Sunday evening after all.

Danneel comes to work on Monday morning with a tiny smile permanently glued on her face that breaks into a grin every two seconds. Her usual latte has chocolate sprinkles today and she wears a blouse that hugs her curves – meaning, it's way too nice to be wearing it to the lab.

Jensen quirks an eyebrow and watches her with curiosity.

“Good morning, sweetie,” she chirps and plants a kiss on his cheek.

Jensen's second eyebrow rises to accompany the first, high on his forehead. “Who are you and what have you done to Danni?”

“That,” she tilts her head and winks – actually _winks_ \- “would have to do with some events on Friday night.”

Having his guess confirmed, Jensen nods, pleased. “Glad I could help.”

“That's what the thank-you-coffee is for,” Danneel taps the lid of the take-away cup, then walks past Jensen with a pat on his shoulder.

“So do I even have to ask if you'll see him again?” Jensen asks as he takes a sip from the strong, hot brew from their favorite coffee shop.

Danneel shoots an amused look over her shoulder. “Of course not, are you nuts? Someone who can make me come three times in one night?”

“TMI, Dee,” Jensen screws his face up.

“Dumb questions deserve dumb answers,” she throws back around a chuckle and then goes to change into her lab coat.

Jensen just shakes his head in amusement. He's happy for her, he is; it's the residue of a familiar feeling in the bottom of his stomach, and emptiness in his chest that makes him feel strange. He also felt in on Saturday, when Felicia seemed way too blissful during class.

“So how was your weekend?” Danneel asks when she returns.

“Misha and I talked Alchemy, which is kinda fascinating, and then we played chess. I'm actually getting better at it, too,” Jensen ponders and decides he doesn't want to tell her about Misha's crush on him. It might raise uncomfortable questions in return. “And that's about it,” he adds.

Danneel throws her head back and laughs. “I swear, you two are like an old married couple.”

“So?” Jensen can't help but smile lopsided.

“Nothing,” she admits with a shrug. “I think he's a good influence on you. You seem happier.”

That's the moment the lab door opens for a third time that day and Jensen quietly thanks whatever god, goddess or plural thereof are up there for Vicki saving him from having to respond to that last sentence.

Danneel stares at him over her desk, her look clearly telling him that this isn't over.

Jensen just grabs his cup of coffee and hides his smile behind the lid.

She brings Misha up again over lunch at the cafeteria, but Jensen shuts her up with a pleading look. “Can we not talk about this? There isn't anything worth talking about anyway.”

“Then why do I have the feeling you're not telling me everything?”

Jensen shrugs, but Danneel doesn't dig any further.

Jensen doesn't see Misha when he comes home on Monday. It's rare, but not something that would usually bother him.

Except when Misha isn't there on Tuesday and Wednesday either.

On Thursday, when the quiet of his living room and the empty space beside him on the sofa are bugging him too much, Jensen calls Danneel.

“What? Maybe he's climbing Mount Everest or something,” she says and Jensen can practically hear the shrug. “I have a feeling that he'll be back.”

“I'm just worried,” Jensen sighs and rubs his tired eyes. He also isn't sleeping all that well lately.

“And you know what? That's sweet, really, but he's a realm-dweller. He can't die or hurt himself. So don't worry. He'll be back.”

Jensen grumbles.

On Friday evening, Jensen finds himself thinking that Misha's return is unlikely to happen within the next five minutes, so he decides to get in some quality time with his right hand and his dick.

He's about sixty-eight percent sure to have found some porn that actually floats his boat and is skipping to the good part, computer mouse in his right hand and stroking his cock to full hardness with his left, when that plan gets shot down faster than he can blink.

“I can't imagine that being very comfortable,” Misha comments over his shoulder, squinting at the monitor.

“Jesus,” Jensen flinches and almost ends up throwing his mouse off his desk with his attempt to shut the tab in his browser. He presses his eyelids shut to collect himself, and finds Misha grinning at him when he opens them again. “Why do you always interrupt me when I'm jerking off?”

“My offer to contribute still stands,” Misha shrugs, his expression innocent.

Jensen kind of wants to throw him out, but then again--

“Where the hell have you been anyway?” he blurts out on impulse.

“The Amazonas,” Misha answers like it's the most normal thing to say.

“The _Amazonas_?”

“Yeah, it was time for my yearly trip down there,” Misha explains. “It's really beautiful right now, and I love to explore everything. Never gets old.”

“And you didn't think to tell me? I was worried!” Jensen states, not bothered that he sounds like a jilted lover.

Misha stares at him for a moment, then finally floats around him to sit down on the desktop.

“I mean--” Jensen stutters, abruptly aware of how his words sound. “You were always here, I almost thought-- I don't know what I thought. It was weird. Not having you around and all that.”

“I see,” Misha smirks.

“No, I mean it. It was just... I have no idea how I could live in such an empty, quiet apartment before. You really make a difference, you know, so I was worried that you could've found-- I know it's stupid, but-”

“I _see_ ,” Misha repeats with emphasis, the smirk on his lips becoming wider.

Jensen promptly takes the hint and shuts up to prevent himself from spilling anything more with his babbling.

A mirthful smile tugs at the edges of Misha's lips. “At least I don't have to ask you if that's a snake in your pants or if you're just happy to see me.”

That's when Jensen realizes that he's sitting in front of Misha with his jeans halfway down his legs and his boxers pulled beneath his still hard cock. “Ah, shit,” he says, resigned, and doesn't even bother to cover himself up right away.

“Don't worry,” Misha grins. “Nothing I hadn't seen before.”

Jensen hesitates for a moment, then becomes curious. “Can you even jerk off?”

“Of course,” Misha shrugs.

Jensen's brain is inevitably stuck on the picture Misha would make with his hand on his dick, a blissful moan dropping from his plump lips. He thinks about all the times he not so subtly stared at Misha's perky ass in his loose sweatpants. And there's the fact that his lust-filled dreams featured familiar blue eyes rather frequently during the past weeks and months.

Jensen swallows around the lump in his throat and re-opens the tab he just closed, the intro of the porn he just watched starting up again, cheesy music flowing from the speakers.

“Jerk off with me?”

“Finally taking me up on my offer?” Misha teases, although he seems a bit flustered and nervous.

Instead of answering Misha's question, Jensen pulls his shirt over his head and his pants down to his ankles without breaking eye contact once. Misha's eyes are traveling over his body, taking in everything, and under all his flustered adorableness, there's a scorching heat burning in his eyes. It's almost tangible, how the air between them crackles with energy, Misha's nostrils flaring and his eyes closing for a second.

Then he follows suit and undresses completely before he sits down on the desk beside Jensen's laptop, lounging back with his hands against the desktop, supporting himself. His cock is hard, curving towards his belly, on a perfect display for Jensen.

“That good enough for you?” Misha jokes and strokes up the length of his dick, a wink taking the bite out of the blunt question.

Jensen notes the average length, but definitely above average – and above his own – girth of Misha's dick, and feels his mouth watering. Misha is uncut, dark, curly crude hair framing the base of his cock. What Jensen would do to be able to bury his nose in those curls while he has Misha down his throat.

“More than,” Jensen mumbles impressed. “Just perfect enough for me to really feel it, but still not too much to deepthroat.”

“Oh, I'd let you suck my dick all day every day, Jay,” Misha moans, his strokes becoming more firm. “Those lips of yours, I'd really like to see what they look like, wrapped around my cock.”

Unconsciously, Jensen started to move his hand over his own cock, just a circle of his thumb and index finger running from the base to the top and back, more teasing than stimulation. “I have a thing for sucking cock,” he admits.

“You like to get your mouth fucked,” Misha says low in his throat, the jerking motions of his hand turning steadier and faster. “If I remember correctly.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and lets his head drop against the back rest of his chair. “So you were around when Tom and I...”

“- were a thing, yeah. You two were pretty hot together, you know.”

“Ah, the sex was never a problem with him,” Jensen smiles at the memory of his ex and the pretty damn perfect sex they've had. “The way he would eat me out, that's... yeah. That's still one of the things I jerk off to.”

Misha hums with appreciation and gives his own dick a firm tug before he cups his balls with his spare hand. His lips are parted, huffing out quick breaths, his slim but toned chest rising and falling. It makes Jensen want to bite and lick his nipples, see how sensitive they are and if Misha gets off on it.

A particularly loud moan makes them both look at the monitor, where a twink gets fucked in the back seat of a truck by a massively built bear.

The truth is, Jensen hasn't looked at the video once. Misha's more than enough jerk-off material, especially when he laughs as low and dirty as he does right now. The sound goes straight to Jensen's dick.

“Do you like to get your nipples sucked?” Jensen asks, picking up that thought from before. “Because to be honest, I'm more of a biter.”

“God, yes,” Misha groans at that, then lifts his spare hand to twist the left, already hard nub between his fingers. “The more teeth, the better.”

Jensen chuckles, breathless and relaxed, and allows the strokes on his cock to match Misha's in speed and intensity. He knows he won't last much longer like this.

“What would you have done if you were sure you wouldn't be interrupted right now? Surely more than watching porn to get off quickly,” Misha eggs him on.

“Well,” Jensen drags the word out, stalling to get in a few more tugs on the head of his cock and a bit of time to think. “I'd have taken my time, obviously. Would've got the lube and the purple vibrator.”

“Your favorite,” Misha throws in.

“Yeah, that one. And I'd have lubed it up, fingered myself open, you know, up to three fingers because I kind of enjoy that, and then I'd have fucked myself on that big, perfect vibrator. On the bed, on my knees, sliding up and down on the vibrator, so I have my hands to jerk off. God, that'd have been perfect.”

Misha groans with desperation and neediness, then comes with a blissful sigh and his head thrown back. “Shit,” he mumbles.

Jensen just watches him, fingers clenched around the base of his cock to keep from coming at the picture of Misha, naked with his torso covered in his own come.

“I want you,” Misha starts, then gasps for air, “I want you to tell me next time you're in the mood. And I want to be with you when you get out the purple one. Let me tell you how you should fuck yourself with it. Give me control. I'll make it good for you, so fucking good you'll forget it's not you doing all the work, I promise.”

That image is enough to push Jensen over the edge in no time. He hits his climax with a relieved groan, come splattering over his hand and belly.

Afterwards, the soft, cheesy music is still filling the room, the moans from the porn drowned out by the heavy silence between Jensen, sitting on his desk chair, and Misha, sitting on Jensen's desktop in front of him.

“Wow,” Jensen mumbles, staring at his come-covered hand and reveling in the intensity of his orgasm.

“Yeah,” Misha chuckles, sounding rough and happy.

Jensen feels elated, in a way, the content feeling spreading through him with blissful warmth. He grins at Misha, who runs his hand through the spunk on his stomach.

Misha's answering smile is blinding.

Boiling water shouldn't be that hard. It shouldn't require concentrating on a liquid in a little cup like some form of torture. Something as basic a spell as that should be done with a snap.

Jensen rubs his temples. It's easier when he's got something solid to manipulate, like the cooking spoon the other day.

Beside him, Felicia's water is steaming and bubbling and she even manages to keep it that way. She's also way too chipper.

“Why are you in such a disgustingly good mood, anyway?” Jensen asks her to get his mind off the task at hand a bit.

“You know that date I had a couple weeks ago?” she grins with excitement. “She's very cute and funny and I think that this might really work out, you know?”

Jensen smiles. “That's great to hear, congratulations.”

Felicia squints at him him with suspicion in her eyes.

“What?” Jensen asks and turns back to his cup, tries to channel heating energy into it, just like Jared explained. Neither he nor Felicia are surprised when it doesn't work.

“I'm wondering,” Felicia shakes her head, but her smile dims. “You've seemed much happier during the past weeks. What happened?”

And Jensen can't have that, he really can't.

“Nothing,” he lies. “No need to worry.. I'm really happy for you, I am.”

Felicia nudges her elbow into his side. “Then why the sour face?”

Jensen looks at her for a long moment, then gives up.. “It's just... you are so happy and Danni has like a permanent smile stuck to her face for a few weeks now, and...”

“She does?”

“Yeah,” Jensen trails off and stares into space, somewhere deep into his cup of water. He doesn't finish the train of thought that leads to Misha and things in his life that are unreachable, because a sudden realization hits him.

Felicia and Danneel seem to blow him off at the exact same days. Coincidence?

Danneel never once mentioned any interest in girls and has only dated guys so far, but who knows? As much as he wants to ask Felicia about it in a knee-jerk reaction, he knows that it wouldn't be fair to Danneel. Not that Jensen isn't curious, but she'll tell him when the time is right. That is, if she indeed is dating Felicia.

As for his own situation, it's like Misha said – an unattainable crush is a safe crush. Still, it's not like Jensen can help it, feeling the way he does. Meaning crappy. Ever since things with Misha started to get more heated.

“I'm just sorry, alright?” he eventually finishes. “And happy for you. I am, I swear, even if it doesn't look like it.”

“I know you are,” Felicia smiles again, so the world has righted itself. She still eyes him wearily, but doesn't push further. “Also, Jay, your water is overheating.”

Looking at the steaming pot that only has half its original content left and dried chalk on the side, Jensen sighs and raises his hand. “Jared?”

“Yes?” the professor walks over and nods at Jensen's cup. “Let me guess, more water?”

“And some tips, I have no idea how to get this done.” Jensen rubs his temples again. The slight headache from this morning won't go away, even if this morning had been a morning just like any other. Misha had greeted him with a wide smile when Jensen entered the kitchen, which kind of made Jensen's heart jump into his throat. And it wasn't the least bit strange between them, which took a load off Jensen's mind, too.

“Relax and follow my instructions,” Jared advised, his voice low and steady. He pauses and takes a deep breath before he continues, “Close your eyes. Focus on the world around you. On the items on your desk. The magic fields that are your hands, the pen, the cup. Now, reach out for the water. The consistency is different, but it still is one energy field, right?”

Jensen does as he's told, and the second he searches for the magic field of the water, it hits him.

Molecules.

Those are all molecules.

And heating energy produced by magic is nothing else but simple, boring friction between molecules.

Jensen grins to himself, then taps into his magical abilities to use them to make the water molecules move against each other.

When he looks back at the cup of water, the surface is bubbling and steam is rising, just the right temperature for tea.

“Great!” Jared applauds. “That was fast, good work. Figured it out?”

“Yeah,” Jensen has to admit while catching his breath. A grin slowly spreads on his lips.

Maybe magic and chemistry aren't so different after all.

Two weeks later, Danneel sighs at her cell phone over lunch at the cafeteria.

“What's up? Loverboy got no time for you this weekend?” Jensen winks.

Danneel glares at her phone some more before she shoots him a dirty look. “No, it's just... Felicia doesn't have time for date night. Some programmer's thing. They're writing code all through the weekend, pulling all nighters, the whole thing. It's some kind of contest for a video game publisher.”

Jensen bites his cheek and doesn't hint at his suspicions about her and Felicia. It might be Danneel being disappointed about Felicia's plans for the night on a strictly platonic basis. Then again, she looks a bit more than just disappointed.

“Looks like it's just you and me, then,” Jensen shrugs, then teases her to lighten the mood. “Like the good old times. Before you had no time for me anymore.”

“Yeah,” Danneel answers, lost in thought. She seems sullen as she takes a tiny bite off her tuna sandwich and munches on it without her usual vigor.

“So you really aren't going on a date this weekend,” Jensen notes with surprise, feeling like a dick for teasing her when she obviously was really down. “Hey, sorry. I didn't mean to-- Is everything alright between you and him?”

Danneel doesn't take the bait or doesn't recognize it as one and - maybe it is indeed a guy she's dating. Jensen is too confused at this moment to be able to put his finger on it.

“It is, but looks like we're both booked out this weekend. Anyway,” she puts on a fake smile and they both know it, “it's not so bad, being stuck with your boring ass.”

“Excuse you, lady. I'm not boring.”

“You're playing chess with your imaginary boyfriend for fun,” Danneel deadpans.

“He's not imaginary. Also not my boyfriend. And chess isn't that bad,” Jensen defends himself.

With a slow grin on her curved lips, Danneel snickers. “You keep saying that when we both know it's not true.”

“What? Chess is as valid a spare time activity as playing Mario Kart. Which we can't do, since he's, you know, a spirit in the realm beyond.”

“Oh, star-crossed lovers,” Danneel sighs with a dreamy look into the upper right corner of the cafeteria refectory. “A story as heartbreaking and touching as life itself. One a struggling wizard, the other an untouchable ghost.”

“Dweller,” Jensen corrects her and ignores her sarcastic comment. “Also, what's your point?”

“You're in looove,” Danneel sing-songs. “You know it, I know it, Misha knows it.”

“Am not. Also how would you know what Misha knows?”

Danneel plucks a piece of lettuce from her sandwich and eyes its brown edges suspiciously before flicking it onto her plate. “Because,” she says, obviously choosing her words with care. “I might have only heard one-sided conversations so far, but trust me, it's enough to know what's going on. It's cute, actually, and I'd be lying if I said it wouldn't do you well. You've been less grouchy lately, and you seem more confident, and I'm happy for you, but--”

Jensen stares at her for a few seconds, speechless and searching for something to say. He's torn between amazement and fear of what's coming next.

“Jay, I'm sorry, but I gotta be honest,” Danneel nibbles at her bottom lip, then reaches over the table to squeeze Jensen's hand. “It's not real. Misha might be real, but with him not living in your world, this thing won't go anywhere. You'll just get your heart broken. So I'm telling you this because it might still not be too late – don't. Don't start anything that will hurt you in the long run because it's out of your reach.”

“It's a little late for that,” Jensen admits, squeezing her hand back before retrieving it. He's not sure how to take this – he's not hurt by her words, that's for sure, not by her meddling or trying to influence him. But he doesn't agree either.

A frown works its way onto Danneel's beautiful face, makes the lines of it sharper. “What are you saying?”

“I'm saying we have engaged in a certain _activity_ for weeks now.” Most notably last weekend, on a Sunday morning in bed, that ended with the sheets soaked in come by lunchtime. It seems to end with Jensen having to wash the sheets an awful lot of times, but he's not complaining.

Danneel looks adorable and puzzled, and Jensen almost burst out laughing at her confused state.

“How?” is all she wants to know while shaking her head in disbelief.

Laughing, Jensen leans forward on his elbows. “Think phone sex, seeing the other one included.”

“Ah,” she says after a short second. “I see. And that works for you?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“I knew you were getting laid, but I couldn't explain how that would've happened, what with you in love with Misha and that,” she admits with a shrug.

“There are ways and means,” Jensen smirks. “Hot ones, too.”

“Whatever floats your boat, my friend.”

Jensen thinks back to Misha kneeling between his legs, pretending to give him head while Jensen jerked himself off, and finds himself at the thought that yeah, this could be enough, at least for now.

“Ha! You didn't deny it,” Danneel claps her hands and snickers.

“Shut your face,” Jensen grumbles.

Danneel laughs some more.

There has never been a fixed plan for Jensen's life. Well, not for his love life at least, since he always had the goal to become a scientist.

There has never been the dream of a husband, dog, white picket fence, none of that.

There were boyfriends, sure, but none of them were the kind that Jensen wanted to keep and never let go, never share them with anyone else ever. And he had learned his lesson after introducing Ty to his parents.

And yet, in the most complicated circumstances, there's Misha.

Funny, witty, adorable Misha, who looks too hot for his own good, spread out naked on Jensen's bed.

Except for the fact that he's not existing on the same plane as Jensen, and Jensen can't touch him when he is two seconds from coming his brains out for the second time that day. Can't kiss him, can't lick into his mouth to taste him, can't suck his dick until Misha is an incoherent, begging mess on the bed.

Everything else, they do frequently.

“God,” Jensen groans, breathless, as he spills come all over his stomach and Misha follows suit.

Afterwards, they lie together on the bed, catching their breath and looking at each other. Misha looks absolutely debauched, his hair messy and standing up in all directions, spunk dripping from his hand. His lips are parted, looking plush and full and too kissable.

Instead of lingering on that, Jensen starts to laugh as a surprising thought hits him. “I don’t think I’ve jerked off as much as I have in the past few weeks since I hit puberty,” he chuckles.

Misha grins, with his teeth showing and everything. Jensen just wants to kiss him more. “It's healthy, so, you know. Indulge.”

“Yeah,” Jensen answers as he mirrors the grin. His chest feels too tight and too constricted after such a satisfying orgasm, especially since he's still holding eye contact with Misha.

Misha, who licks over his bottom lip and looks like he's waiting for something.

Fuck it, Jensen thinks, and leans over as if to kiss Misha, except that his lips only meet thin air.

His lips are tingling.

And Misha looks both surprised and startled and delighted all at once when Jensen pulls back.

“I wish we could do that, you know,” Jensen admits, looking down at where he's toying with the sheets of his bed, running his thumb over the soft linen to avoid Misha's too blue eyes.

“I know,” Misha almost whispers. “Me too.”

Jensen studies his face, which looks too sincere and solemn. “Have you ever tried to get out of the realm?” he asks after a few moments.

“Of course,” Misha shrugs. “But if it was that easy, it'd have kinda missed the point of being banned within the realm.”

“So, is it like the phantom zone? Do you need to find, like, a portal?” Jensen rolls onto his side so he can look at Misha more without straining his eyes, not caring about his naked state.

“I know that a portal was cast when I was banned. There was a potion or something thrown into the fire I was burnt with, which did the trick. But the portal closed after me and I couldn't get through. I searched for decades after that, looked for other portals , but since then-” another shrug, “After a century or so, I didn't bother any more. Like I said before, living in the realm has its advantages.”

“And disadvantages,” Jensen sighs, then lets his hand run down Misha's chest, down to where his flaccid cock is nestled between dark, curly hair, and cups it in his palm.

“Yeah, but it's not like we can't work around that,” Misha tries to lighten up the mood with a smile, but fails miserably.

“For now,” Jensen mumbles, more to himself, and retrieves his hand.

Misha eyes him with a weary look. “Jay, there's no way, trust me. I've tried, more or less for over four hundred years.”

Jensen bites his lip and can't think of a single thing to say.

“Morning!” Danneel greets him the following friday Friday. “Hey, are you all booked for tonight or is there any possibility of getting you excited for date night?”

Jensen looks up from his microscope and takes in her slightly unfamiliar posture. Danneel winds her hands around in front of her stomach, fingers twisting and thumbs tapping against her slim knuckles. She almost seems nervous.

“Morning,” Jensen smiles instead of commenting on it. She'll tell him soon enough. “No, I'm free. Anything you wanna do?”

“Yes, I want to introduce you to someone,” Danneel winks, which looks forced.

“I'll finally get to meet the mystery boyfriend after weeks of being neglected every Friday?” Jensen teases with a lopsided smirk.

“I... sorry, Jay, really. You know how it is. But this time... this is important, for me,” Danneel mumbles, rubbing her knuckles some more.

Jensen almost worries by now. “Are you alright?”

“Just nervous,” she waves him off. “I'm sure you two are going to get along fine, but still.”

“Then don't worry, it's gonna be alright. I'm looking forward to meeting him,” Jensen smiles at her to reassure her.

Danneel drops her hands with a deep breath and gives him a genuine smile. “So, my place tonight? I'll cook.”

At that, Jensen perks up. “You'll cook?”

“Sure.”

“Well count me in,” Jensen grins.

“You can bring Misha, if he wants to come, too, so we can have a double date,” Danneel teases, now finally seeming more at ease than before.

“Again, we are not dating. Not that it's even possible for us.”

Danneel raises an eyebrow.

“Danni's 'boyfriend' is coming tonight?” Misha repeats what Jensen told him the second he came home. He's bustling with energy and a healthy dose of mirth, ever since Jensen shared his theory concerning Danneel and Felicia with him.

Jensen nods. “And you're invited, too.”

Misha chuckles. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

“She said he and I will get along just fine.”

“I wonder why she thinks that. And did she word it like that?”

“Of course not,” Jensen mirrors his smirk, then turns to examine the inside of his closet. “No matter if our suspicions turn out to be right or not, I'm excited, gotta tell you. She rarely introduces one of her flings to me, so this must be a serious one.”

“Better dress up than being sorry, then. When should we be there?”

“At eight.”

“So we've got half an hour. Hey, why don't you wear that dark blue button down? That looks absolutely perfect on you.”

Jensen obediently takes the shirt Misha suggested out and slips it over his shoulders.

“You know, if I could, I'd rip it right off of you,” Misha moans. “Roll up the sleeves?”

“Will you stop objectifying me?” Jensen laughs. “Not that I don't appreciate it, but I need to focus here. I need to impress my best friend's new 'boyfriend', so he does at least feel a bit threatened until I tell him I'm not into boobs.”

“Trust me, if he's male, he's gonna see you and wonder why he's with Danni and not you, and if she's female, well,” Misha assures him, then floats towards him, circling him. “I'd eat you alive if I could. Your ass in those jeans is a sin in itself.”

“Shut up and go wax poetic about my ass somewhere else,” Jensen shakes his head amused. “You're distracting.”

Misha smirks, then closes in on Jensen, mimics wrapping his arms around him and grabbing his ass. His feet are on the ground, for once, and Jensen notices that Misha is indeed not much shorter than he himself. He appreciates that fact a lot, always liked guys who could meet him at eye level. When Misha cocks his head and pretends to rub his pelvis against Jensen's, it's pretty self-explanatory where this is heading.

“Quickie?” Jensen asks on the exhale, voice rough and a bit strained.

“God, yes,” Misha groans and starts to strip.

In a perfect world, Misha would pull Jensen towards his bed right now, would tug at his shirt and open his zipper, would fall to his knees in front of Jensen. And Jensen wouldn't see a thing as he pulls his shirt over his head, but he'd feel everything – Misha sucking him down, his mouth hot and wet as it engulfs his cock, tongue a bit rough as it circles the head of his cock, the nudge against the back of Misha's throat when he's buried balls-deep.

In a perfect world, Misha would lube up his fingers and open Jensen up on them, until he’d gotten three fingers in Jensen’s ass and he would beg with a broken moan for Misha's cock. Misha would fuck him nice and slow, and right before Jensen lost his mind, he'd come so hard he'd see stars. They'd get tested sometime soon and Misha could come deep into him, have Jensen leak his come the next day.

In a perfect world, Jensen would kiss Misha afterwards, tenderly and lovingly, with his hands roaming over heated, sweaty, shivering and sensitive skin, over hard nipples and through sticky, drying come. Their tongues would tangle as they both smiled into the kiss, and then they'd fall asleep beside each other.

You know, if they didn't have to go meet Danni's boyfriend in half an hour. And if Misha wasn't a realm-dweller.

That perfect world, Jensen realizes bitterly, does not exist anyway.

Misha's nervous energy is driving Jensen crazy by the time he presses Danneel's doorbell.

“Would you stop fidgeting?” he murmurs around a sigh.

“'m sorry,” Misha murmurs back and even manages a tiny smile.

When the door opens, it's Felicia who greets them happily. “Hey guys! Come on in, Danni is just getting finished with the steaks.”

“Hey,” Jensen hugs her hello and bites his cheek to say, “Didn't expect to see you before tomorrow.”

“Yeah, well, here I am,” she squeezes him, then retreats and waves at Misha. “Hi Misha!”

“Hi,” Misha smiles back. “So is your girlfriend here, too?”

“Of course,” Felicia laughs.

Jensen shares an amused smile with Misha.

Then Danneel appears in an apron over her old t-shirt and jeans, hugs Jensen like Felicia did, and says hello in the general direction of Misha.

It's oddly quiet in Danneel's apartment, though, so Jensen asks, “So, where are the others?”

“About that,” Danneel starts, then shoots a look at Felicia. They both seem a bit unsure.

“What is it?” Misha eggs them on.

Jensen eventually finds Felicia's eyes and she makes a visible effort to cover up her nervousness with a shaky smile. “The thing is, my girlfriend is here, and Danni's special someone is, too. But there aren't any more people coming.”

“So that's why you two kept ditching me every Friday,” Jensen shakes his head, and he knows some righteous anger wouldn't be out of place here. “I knew it!”

“For the record, we're truly sorry about that,” Danneel blushes, ducks her head and wraps an arm around Felicia's waist, who looks just as flustered, Jensen can't find it in himself to be angry at them.

Felicia kisses her temple and chuckles. “It just happened.”

“Danni, I thought you were straight,” Jensen throws in.

Danneel looks at Felicia and blushes some more. “That's actually why I didn't tell you from the beginning. Again, sorry about that. Like Felicia said, it just happened, and I was so surprised and so unsure about it. I didn't know if it was a one time thing or if I could do this at all, but... that's not a question, not any more.”

“That's... great. I'm really happy for you two,” Misha says.

Felicia beams. “Thank you.”

“What'd he say?” Danneel whispers into Felicia's ear.

“That he's happy for us.”

“Thank you,” Danneel says as well.

“Interesting developments aside,” Jensen interrupts the awkward standing around in the hallway, “What about those steaks, Danni?”

“Oh, shit,” she curses and hurries off towards the kitchen.

Felicia laughs as she watches her scamper off, then follows her with Misha and Jensen in tow.

“So you turned a straight girl gay,” Jensen notes. “That's... impressive.”

With a chuckle and a wink over her shoulder, Felicia replies, “Trust me, she didn't need much convincing. At least, not so much convincing in actual words.”

“You know, if _someone -_ ” Danneel shouts from the kitchen, “- would've told me about the awesomeness of gay sex, I'd have considered that option quite some time ago. There I was thinking I had always picked guys who aren't that good in the sack. Or were gay.”

“Danni, I hate to tell you, but I have to –“ Jensen teases, “In case you haven't noticed, I'm a guy. And I'm gay. And I can't fucking tell you how lesbian sex works because I couldn't even bring myself to touch you. I don't want to think about anything that involves two of that kind.”

Felicia giggles to herself as they all sit down at the table.

Jensen adds, with a nod at her, “I'll leave that to someone with more expertise in the field.”

“You better,” Danneel chuckles as she carries the first two serving plates towards the table.

“Let me help,” Felicia offers, getting up from her chair.

“No, babe,” Danneel interrupts her with a quick kiss, then motions her to sit down again. “You're as much my guest as the guys are.”

Jensen takes in the sweet little gesture, Danneel's hands on Felicia's shoulders, the peck onto her lips, Felicia's quick stroke through Danneel's hair.

Beside him, Misha is oddly quiet. Danneel set a place setting for him, too, mindful not to exclude him, but he seems sullen. Jensen doesn't want to ask, not now, not when Danneel and Felicia are so happy and smitten with each other.

Because on some level, he knows that Misha is bothered by the same thing that he is.

The queasy feeling in his stomach, not jealousy or envy, but longing and wanting, and knowing he can't have it.

It seems like ever since his revelation that magic is just like chemistry, in a way, everything in magic class is much easier. After all, both is just manipulating molecules – and molecules, Jensen knows.

The day after Danneel's and Felicia's big reveal, they're transforming oranges into lemons, and Jared is giddy like a little kid.

“Guys, I love this part to bits because transformation is really so much fun,” he said earlier, when he dropped an orange onto everyone's desk. “Now here's the basics: transformation is not taking an apple and making a chocolate bar out of it. Think of it as an anagram – same letters, different words. You can only use what you have, but you can also eliminate what you don't need. In case of oranges and lemons, you don't need the sugar and you don't need the color. Now let's see what you get with that in mind.”

Needless to say, Jensen was finished two minutes later, with a slightly round, but otherwise yellow-ish and definitely sour lemon.

“How did you do that?” Felicia murmurs, staring at her disfigured orange, which is also sporting dark brown splotches.

“Eliminate the fructose molecules,” Jensen shrugs. “Then alter the color by adjusting the ethylene levels in the peel.”

“Good one, Jensen,” Jared pats him on the shoulder.

“It's just chemistry,” Jensen smiles, ducking his head. It's a boring, accurate fact.

They're done around ten p.m., and Jensen excuses himself to Felicia, who reacts surprised. “No coffee today?”

“Got some stuff to look up at the library,” Jensen explains. “And with my job, I don't come here often anyway.” Plus, he's impatient and it's been burning under his skin since yesterday.

“Sure thing,” Felicia answers, then hugs him goodbye.

Jensen sighs and makes his way through the familiar corridors, until he reaches the 24-hour library. During his chemistry studies, he'd spent entire nights here, and is acutely reminded of that when Stephen, the librarian, greets him with a delighted grin.

“Hey, Jensen! Haven't seen you around here in a while.”

“Well, I thought I'd be out of here for good, but – seems like I was wrong,” Jensen chuckles, then takes Stephen's proffered hand.

“I don't think I have a single book here that you haven't read three times already,” Stephen shakes his head with amusement.

Jensen waves him off. “I don't need any of those. Actually, I'm looking for books on magic used in the seventeenth century. Plus something on the realm beyond and how portals to it work, if you've got anything on that.”

Stephen's eyes light up as he runs the tips of his thumb and index finger over his full beard, pondering. Then he gestures for Jensen to follow him.

Jensen knows for a fact that their library contains a lot of books on all kinds of topics. The library is huge after all. What he didn't expect is a Harry-Potter-style forbidden books section.

“This is for teachers and older students with a teacher's approval only, you know,” Stephen mutters as he unlocks the magical lock on the entrance towards the special section. The door is barely visible, a net of shimmering, magical energy fields hovering in front of them, the lock a brightly lit, rainbow colored panel. “Lucky for you, I can give permission, too.”

With a thankful nod, Jensen follows Stephen down a hallway with the regular university-issued shelves. It wouldn't look different from any other part of the library if the books weren't mostly leather-bound and some obviously very old.

After three twists and turns, Stephen squints at a particular row of books, then pulls out an inconspicuous, tiny brown notebook.

“Tom Riddle's diary?” Jensen snorts.

Stephen shoots him a grin. “Sasha Krushnic's diary,” he corrects as he browses through the book.

“Who the hell is Sasha Krushnic?” Jensen asks with a frown.

“An alchemist who lived in the seventeenth century. Originally from Russia, he traveled through Europe, gathered knowledge in several countries, sold a little snake oil to get by, the usual.”

“So what's that got to do with portals to the realm beyond?”

Stephen slaps it shut and pushes it into Jensen's hand. “Trust me. Read it. It's everything you've asked for. You know the rules for the restricted area of the library?”

Jensen shakes his head. “There are special rules?”

“No taking it home, only allowed to read it here,” Stephen says and turns to leave, but stops to eye Jensen with a knowing look. “I can get you some coffee, if you want?”

“Starbucks or the lukewarm stuff from the vending machine?” Jensen perks up.

“You know I wouldn't ever offer you the glorified instant coffee,” Stephen scolds him. “I've got a temp to watch out for the library and a craving for something hot and strong, so I would've gone on a run anyway.”

Jensen raises an eyebrow and doesn't comment, although it's hard to contain the smirk that wants to break out onto his lips.

“Oh shut up and read that damn diary,” Stephen laughs.

“What? 's not like I said anything.”

“Just tell me if the best company I've ever had during Saturday night shifts during the past four years wants a coffee or not.”

Jensen smiles, genuinely, this time. “Yes, of course. Thanks, Stephen.”

It's an unspoken law between them to not talk about what happened years ago, after Ty left Jensen. They knew they wouldn't work out. Plus, it's not like Jensen's heart isn't situated elsewhere.

Which is the whole reason why he's here.

So Jensen sits down on one of the long rows of desks, clicks the light on, and starts to read.

“You've been out late,” Misha says when Jensen returns home at 2 a.m.

“Obviously,” Jensen murmurs. Not that he isn't happy to see Misha, but he's tired and exhausted. Also disappointed, because with as many techniques Sasha Krushnic's book described, none of them were ever successful. He kicks off his shoes and heads straight for the bathroom, walking right through Misha on his way.

Misha looks taken aback for the second that Jensen sees him, but then he closes the bathroom door behind himself. At least Misha has the courtesy to wait outside instead of following Jensen.

“So what happened?”

“Nothing,” Jensen grumbles as he undresses to his boxers and pulls an old t-shirt over his head.

“Bullshit,” Misha replies.

When Jensen leaves the bathroom to go to bed, Misha hovers in mid-air in front of him so he has to look at him. Misha's arms are crossed in front of his chest, his expression is worried.

“Look, can we just go to bed? I'm tired,” Jensen tries to beg.

Wordlessly, Misha leads the way and floats through the wall to Jensen's bedroom.

Jensen slips under the covers and shuts off the light, then stares through the dark up to the ceiling. Guilt crushes down on him, all of a sudden, because he's being a dick to Misha on purpose, even though he knows shutting Misha out will not solve his problem. When he meets Misha's eyes, who's lying beside him, Jensen also realizes that this is nothing he can do by himself, behind Misha's back. It concerns Misha just as much, if not more.

“I did some research,” Jensen admits, his voice quiet in the darkness of the bedroom. “About the portals to and from the realm beyond.”

Misha's eyes harden before a frown forms between his brows. “Why?”

Jensen takes a deep breath, then looks Misha straight in the eye as he tells him the truth. “Because I can't do this, not in the long run. This can't be it for the rest of my life. I want to be with you, but I want it all. I want to hold your hand and kiss you and cuddle with you, all that sappy shit. I just need human touch.”

“I know,” Misha bites his lip. “And I hate to inform you, but others have tried before you and failed spectacularly. I know that this, what we have, it's complicated. And as much as I want it different, it's what I'm stuck with, so I try to enjoy the moment until you realize I'm a lost cause and move on.”

Jensen blinks a few times. “Move on from you?”

Misha nods, avoids Jensen's gaze.

“I can't. I wouldn't. I'll try _everything_.”

“Everything can be a lot, and I don't need any sacrifices, especially not from someone who still has his whole life to live. I'm old, and I'm--”

“Mish,” Jensen interrupts him. “I said I'll try everything. Because you're worth it. But I need you there with me. I need your consent and your support, so please. Help me. Let's try this.”

Misha bites and nibbles on his bottom lip some more.

Jensen mumbles, “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

“I wish I could tell you that everything will be alright, but I can't,” Misha says. “And for the record? I'd love to be able to kiss you, too.”

“So if there was a possibility to get you out, you'd take it and leave your immortality behind?” Jensen asks to clarify.

“I'm not convinced there's even a possibility that doesn't come with too huge sacrifice,” Misha shrugs. “But yes, I would. In a heartbeat. I've had my fair share of Mount Everest ascents.”

“Good,” Jensen says with emphasis and elation. “Because I'll find a doable way.”

Misha doesn't say anything for a long while. It's quiet in Jensen's bedroom, their breathing the only sound disrupting the silence of the night.

“I hope you do,” Misha sighs after a couple minutes, “Let's just sleep, alright?”

Jensen, who's already been half asleep, takes a moment to process the words. “Yeah. Good night, Mish.”

“Good night, Jay.”

It's soft and low, Misha's voice as thick and sweet as honey. It washes over Jensen's frayed nerves, over his heightened senses, and soothes them.

But it's still coming from the realm beyond. It's not real.

And Jensen is still so very screwed.

Misha wakes him up on Sunday morning with promises of dirty, quick blowjobs and the electrifying touch of his see-through hands roaming over Jensen's body. Jensen lets Misha's voice take him away, moans and writhes as he rolls his hips into the mattress, his back arching, his fingers curling into the pillow.

In his sleepy, yet oversensitive state, he comes sooner than expected and without any touch from his hand. “Fuck, Misha,” Jensen says afterwards.

“That's the general idea,” Misha chuckles.

Jensen salutes while still lying on his belly. “General Idea.”

“Dork,” Misha laughs. “Go get some coffee into you so you can reciprocate, that an idea?”

Jensen opens one eye to look at Misha, who's lounging on his side on the other side of Jensen's bed, naked and with a soft smile on his lips.

“You think I need coffee for that?” Jensen questions, then smirks and sits up onto his knees.

They've gotten good at this, at jerking off together, at rolling around in bed as if they could actually touch each other. So it's no surprise to Jensen how easy it is to kneel between Misha's legs and take his hard cock between his lips. It's easy to pretend that this is real, that he can feel the thick head nudging at the back of his throat and taste the bittersweet taste of precome on his tongue.

Misha babbles along, how he's going to hold Jensen's head, fuck his mouth so good, make him gag on it.

Jensen almost comes a second time, because the way Misha draws up his feet and bites into the side of his index finger when he comes, not to mention the low groans that escape his lips and the mantra of “Jay, Jay, god, yes, like this-” is just maddening.

“You look so hot doing this,” Misha sighs afterwards. “I wish I could feel what you feel like.”

“See?” Jensen teases. “That's the other side of not living in the realm that you had forgotten about.”

“God knows you've reminded me of that a couple times now.”

Misha sounds bitter and too serious, so Jensen gets up to clean up without another word.

“I'd like to ask for your help,” Jensen states, as firmly as he dares to. “It's got nothing to do with class and I'm sure you've got better things to do but--”

“Jensen,” Jared laughs, “just spit it out.”

Jensen sighs. “I've spent the last week at the library, after work, trying to find out about the realm, but I'm at a point where I don't know where to look any more.”

“The realm? That realm beyond? What are you searching for, exactly?” Jared shakes his head, confused.

“I'm looking for ways in and out of it. Portals, if you will.”

Jared seems startled, but follows up a second later with an amused nod at Willy, “What, do you want to get your very special pet out?”

Jensen tries not to give him his best bitchface, because he's spent too much time and energy on this to be joking about it, but then again, Jared doesn't know any better. “No,” he answers, simply. “Just interested in the matter.”

“Well,” Jared squints, obviously thinking about how to phrase what he is going to say, “I can't tell you much more than what's in the books in the library.”

“Yes, I know, but I think there might've been more? Like, a rumor or something that was told as a legend once upon a time? Or maybe there's still something around from the alchemists that no one talks about, I don't know.”

A frown has formed on Jared's face during Jensen's questions. “Jensen, the truth is that the realm is beyond us. Different levels of existence. Only a glimpse for us to catch. There is no portal that you can form with magic, no way to cross into the other realm. Scientists have never found a way, and neither have magicians or scientists working with magicians.”

“No way? At all?”

“No way.”

“Okay,” Jensen says simply, and even remembers to say “Thank you.” before he leaves the classroom.

He doesn't cry. He doesn't, because he knew from the start what he was in for, and false hope and disappointment is one thing, but there's no need to stomp on the ground like a little kid that doesn't get his way.

Jensen doesn't stop by the library that night.

And if the bike ride to his apartment is a bit too fast and the wind is making his eyes teary, then there's that.

“Hey, Mish,” Jensen sighs when he comes home.

“Hey, what's up?”

Dropping his rucksack to the floor, Jensen answers, “There's no way. No portal in and out of the realm. Said the most experienced wizard of our faculty.”

Misha acknowledges that piece of information with a simple nod.

“Go ahead, tell me I told you so, I don't care,” Jensen presses out between his teeth, feels his chest constrict with pain as he slumps against the door. “Tell me you knew and I should move on instead of wasting my time on this stupidly hot, perfect guy. Tell me to get a grip, because right now, I'm losing it.”

By the end of his little speech, Jensen feels a tear roll down his left cheek and quickly wipes it away with the back of his hand.

“Jay,” is all Misha says, softly. “I'm sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Jensen burst out. “'s not like it's your fault.”

“I started it.”

“There are always two parties involved, you know,” Jensen returns.

Misha's sigh is exasperated. “Fine. I _encouraged_ it. And I knew what it could lead to.”

“Could've-would've-should've,” Jensen rolls his eyes and sniffles. “It doesn't matter anyway. It is what it is.”

Misha's eyes are big and sad when Jensen finally dares to meet them after a few moments of silence.

“I'm sorry,” Misha says meekly, and it breaks Jensen's heart just a little more.

“Me too.”

It's quiet for a minute after that, until Jensen can't stand it any more and leaves for the bedroom.

“Hey,” he turns around on a whim, before closing the door.

Misha looks up from the spot he's still standing in.

“I'd appreciate it if you could give me some time to think,” Jensen says and feels like an asshole. “Sorry, it's not like I never wanna see you again, but... I need some distance. And perspective.”

“And you're not gonna find it as long as I'm here,” Misha nods. “I understand. It's fine.”

“Thank you.”

“I'll just go away for a while,” it comes out mumbled and broken. Then Misha turns around and vanishes through the west-facing wall.

He doesn't say goodbye, but then again, Jensen doesn't feel like saying goodbye either.

It's eerily quiet in Jensen's apartment.

Sure, there's the occasional huff or sniffle from Fuzzy, and sometimes Willy sneezes, which would be adorable on any other day, but when Jensen wakes up the next morning, feeling beaten and exhausted and like he's been run over by a truck, it's not. It's annoying. It also reminds him of Misha, for some reason, and that's even more crushing.

Jensen turns around and tries to fall asleep again, since it's Sunday and he can sleep in if he wants, but he can't.

It's just like everything else in his life right now.

He wants to get his PhD in chemistry, but he can't think of a topic to write his dissertation about. He wants to be happy with what he achieved in life, yet he can't find any satisfaction.

He finds the man of his dreams and can't be with him.

And now his cell phone starts to ring when it's not even 10 a.m. yet.

Figures.

“Fuck my life,” Jensen murmurs and rolls onto his back, frisking the bedside table for the vibrating nuisance. Caller ID says Felicia, and Jensen considers the option of letting the call go to voice mail, except he knows that Felicia wouldn't call before lunch if it wasn't important.

Eventually, Jensen gives in and unlocks his phone to accept. “Hey,” he says wearily, not hiding his lack of enthusiasm.

“Good morning,” Felicia greets him. “You got something planned today?”

Jensen snorts. “Sleep?”

“Other than that, I mean,” she answers. “Besides, you answered on the third ring, I'm betting you weren't asleep in the first place.”

Jensen surrenders. “No. And no.”

“Good, then open the door.”

She hangs up, and Jensen stares at his phone in confusion before he pads to the apartment door. Felicia and Danneel are standing outside, a six pack of beer, a bottle of Jack and a pot of B'n'J's cookie dough ice cream in their arms.

“Booze and ice cream? Really?” Jensen mumbles and lets his head drop backwards.

Danneel shrugs. “You know it's the go-to plan for dealing with all things heartbreak- and relationship-wise. And for a reason, might I add.”

Wordlessly, Jensen waves them in, takes the beer to put it in the fridge.

The girls settle in the living room, and once Jensen joins them, he realizes what’s missing in all of this that had confused him the second Felicia called. “How do you even know what happened?”

“Misha told us,” Felicia answers. “By the way, he's on his way to Tibet and won't be home for at least six days.”

Jensen drops onto the couch. “You guys are a horrible influence, you know,” he reaches for the bottle of Jack, cracks it open and takes a sip. It burns straight down his throat and makes his stomach tingle, and he has to cough once the initial sharpness hits him, but it's good. Soothing.

“I don't see you complaining,” Danneel smirks.

“Fuck off,” Jensen grumbles without venom.

“So, what happened?” Danneel asks. “Let's hear your part of the story, because Misha only told us the essentials.”

“Not much, honestly,” Jensen shrugs, then tells them about his plan and Jared's words.

Felicia sighs. “Ouch.”

“And that's not even the worst thing,” Jensen admits, his voice small and quiet. “Now I'm questioning if I imagined it all. Misha said it once and I couldn't agree more, you know, that an unattainable crush is a safe crush. What if that was all it is, a crush. Not me imagining that I've met someone whom I could really be with for the rest of my life.”

“That's a big label,” Felicia throws in.

Jensen shrugs again. “Maybe it is. But this... I haven't felt like this with any guy before him. And I don't know whether I'm feeling like that because it's true or because I managed to get myself so worked up, fell too hard for someone who doesn't even exist in my world.”

He takes another sip from the bottle, just to cough again.

“You could've bought something not completely crappy, you know,” he frowns at Danneel. “Something above ten dollars.”

“Hey, that's what you've bought me for my last birthday,” Danneel reasons. “Your bad.”

Jensen groans and drops his head against the back rest of the couch.

The three of them don't talk for a minute. Felicia wordlessly goes to make them coffee – Irish for Jensen – and when she comes back, Jensen closes his eyes, unable to look at them.

“I'm an idiot. And I've been hoping for this to work out somehow, except I should've known that life doesn't work like that.”

“You're in love. That automatically makes you an idiot,” Danneel tries to reason.

“Maybe,” Jensen drinks. This time, it still burns, but he doesn't cough. Coffee makes Jack way more tolerable.

“Alright, you know what?” Felicia says, clapping her hands. “It's 2 a.m. somewhere. So fuck it.” She takes the bottle of bourbon from the table and throws back a mouthful, screwing up her face.

“What's the plan here, get sloppy drunk before lunch?” Jensen asks, surprised.

“Exactly. And deal with it later,” Danneel states, then takes a drink herself. “Disgusting,” she comments with a shudder.

“Loser takes a shot,” Felicia explains and sets up Mario Kart on Jensen's Wii.

“Per course or per grand prix?” Jensen throws in.

Felicia rolls her eyes. “Per course, of course.”

“You know,” Jensen says as his Metal Mario drives into a banana, “Sometimes I wish I'd at least gotten me a dildo in the shape of his dick. There's gotta be some sort of shop on the internet that lets you order those. Would've been awesome.”

Danneel snorts and Felicia says, “Ew.”

“No, really!” Jensen insists. “Man, that was one pretty cock. The things I'd do to get that in my ass.”

Felicia looks at Jensen in surprise, then asks Danneel, “Is he always like this when he's drunk?”

“Only if he's really wasted,” Danneel chuckles. “Like, gonna-puke-within-the-next-hour wasted.”

“Excuse you,” Jensen points at the bottle of Jack, which is almost empty. “You drank what, two sips each?”

“Yeah, right,” Felicia laughs, barely manages to not fall of the couch.

“So how big was he?” Danneel smirks at him, and Felicia screws up her face again.

“About my length, just thicker and uncut,” Jensen hums at the memory and doesn't even blink when he drives straight into Danneel's Bob Omb. “Perfect size to really make you feel it.”

“Nice,” Danneel answers, distracted with knocking Jensen off the road, then whoops when she manages to cross the finish line before Felicia.

“Wait,” Felicia sits up from where she was lounging on the couch and looks from Danneel to Jensen again. “You're a bottom?”

“You only just noticed that now?” Danneel laughs, then sings from the top of her lungs, “That boy is a bottom!”

Jensen grins. “I top sometimes, too, but generally, hell yes I'm a bottom.”

“I'd have bet good money on you being the toppiest top ever,” Felicia shakes her head with disbelief and a drunken smirk. “By the way, did you know that it's pretty similar with girls?”

“What, tops and bottoms?”

“Oh yes,” Danneel supplies. “If I'd known that sooner, oh my.”

Jensen frowns. “I don't really wanna talk about lesbian sex.”

“And yet,” Felicia throws in, “You made me listen to your fantasies of Misha's dick in your ass, which, let me repeat that - ew.”

Danneel laughs. “Down, you two. Lesbian sex is awesome, for the record.”

“Look at our newly turned bisexual,” Jensen teases with a smile. “Isn't she adorable.”

“And proud!” Danneel adds.

“As soon as you've found the right girl, you're sold,” Jensen tries to tease her some more, but ends up feeling shitty. “And when I find the right man, he's unavailable.”

Danneel's smile vanishes. “Jay, there are other fish in the sea.“

“But I don't want anyone else,” Jensen sighs and drops his controller. “I want Misha. And now he isn't even here and I have no way to call him.”

The girls are quiet beside him, but Jensen doesn't know if they don't know what to say or don't have anything to say.

“I miss him.”

The confession hangs in the thick air between them, until Danneel says, her voice breaking into a whisper. “Of course you do. And I know you don't want to hear it, but this might be it, Jay. If you're smart, you leave this be, try to get onto your feet again, and move on. Spare yourself the heartbreak.”

Jensen's laugh sounds bitter and harsh to his own ears. “I thought we established that I'm not smart. I'm stupid and in love.”

And saying it like that, for the first time admitting it to himself out loud, makes Jensen's gut churn. Or so he thinks until he realizes it's the alcohol burning in his gut, and barely makes it to the toilet on wobbly knees to empty his stomach.

“Told you,” Danneel says when she appears and kneels down on the cold tiled floor beside him.

She sounds like she pities him, but Jensen can't be offended.

After all, he pities himself, too.

He's a pathetic mess.

“I'll cover for you at work tomorrow,” Danneel adds.

“You're the best friend ever,” he manages to cough out between retching fits.

“For letting you get sloppy drunk because you got your heart broken? Nah, that's not a recommendable coping mechanism and we both know it. But it gets your mind off things and it lets you wallow in some of that self-pity you're so fond of these days.”

“Alright, I take everything back. I hate you,” Jensen glares at her without venom.

Danneel rubs his back and doesn't answer.

Monday is completely ruined by Jensen's hangover.

He's not hungry, not even for a greasy breakfast. In an effort to counter said hangover, he pulls on an old t-shirt and some shorts to go for a run, but barely makes it a good mile before he decides to go back home. Exhaustion and lack of sleep on top of a hangover are not a good base for jogging.

So Jensen takes a shower, then sits on his couch and stares at the chess board. It's still set the way they finished last time. Jensen had won, because Misha had given up once he called Check.

Misha's king is cornered and has nowhere to go.

Yet, Jensen feels like the one who's trapped.

Things don't get better on Tuesday, even though Jensen goes to work and apologizes to Vicki for taking a sick day. She seems to get that he isn't telling the truth, but he looks like shit – enough so that she accepts his apology without any follow-up questions.

Jensen takes a deep breath and sighs when he comes home that day.

The apartment is quiet and empty.

Jensen wants to call out Misha's name, even though it's obvious he's not here. Jensen knows for a fact that he's not here.

And still.

Jensen drops his backpack to the floor and stares at the chess board.

On Wednesday, Danneel asks him how he's doing, “really doing, cut the bullshit.”

“I think I'm starting to get depressed,” Jensen admits. “Not really clinically depressed, but it's so lonely at the apartment. I've gotten so used to having him around, and I can't stand the silence.”

“Come back to my place after work today?” Danneel offers.

So Jensen spends Wednesday night to Thursday at Danneel's, playing video games all evening and still missing Misha's sarcastic comments like crazy.

“It's only half the fun without Misha telling me how much I suck at Rainbow Road,” Jensen grumbles after another horrible round.

Danneel hugs him and doesn't protest when he takes his ice cream afterwards Robin-Scherbatsky style, pecan caramel flavor with beer topping.

Thursday and Friday are busy work days at the lab, and Jensen is running through the building half the day and comparing notes and setting up some experiment for a new metal alloy the rest of the day, plus they have two new interns that get shown around, which of course ends up being the student worker's responsibility.

“Fuck my life,” Jensen groans when he looks at his research notes for his dissertation and once again has no idea what to do with them at all.

When he looks at the clock, he notices that it's already 10 p.m., so he packs up his stuff and walks home.

Walks, because his bike has a flat tire and he forgot his tire pump at home.

Fuck his life, indeed.

Saturday is a depressing day in general.

It's raining buckets and Jensen's feet are itching for a run. When he returns, he's soaked through his underwear, despite his rain jacket, and his shoes are squelching with each step. At least he's feeling better, the runners high lasting long enough to motivate him to shower.

The hours until magic class in the evening drag by.

Jensen plays Battlefield through most of them. Shooting stuff without having to think about anything. Felicia is online sometime during the afternoon, so they meet up for a round or two.

“How are you holding up?” she asks him in lieu of a greeting when they see each other before class.

Jensen just shrugs. “Okay, I guess.”

Felicia frowns but clearly doesn't know what to say.

Jensen's heart hurts some more, because despite how heartbroken he feels, he's got no right to pull his – generally happy, optimistic and freshly in love – friends down with him. So he tells Felicia as much and apologizes, for which she hugs him.

It makes Jensen feel only marginally better.

On Sunday afternoon, the sound of Jensen's coffee maker is the only sound that fills his apartment.

He yawns, still exhausted although he slept a good eleven hours.

“Jensen?”

He almost can't believe his ears, but that's Misha's voice. When Jensen turns around, he finds Misha standing an appropriate distance away from him, smiling a bit sheepishly.

“Hey,” he mumbles, his tongue sticking to his gums, his lips dry.

Misha is as beautiful as always. Dark hair disheveled, blue eyes sparkling, lips full and kissable and curved sinfully, one edge pulled upwards when he echoes, “Hey.”

Jensen takes a deep breath and focuses. “So how was Tibet?”

“Enlightening,” Misha sighs on the exhale. “In a way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean... I've got news, and no idea what to do with it.”

Jensen looks at him wide-eyed and surprised and he needs to take a sip of his coffee before he can say, “Go on, please.”

“I talked to a monk who also once learned to control magic. And he told me that his former teacher had always said 'If in doubt, remember: who did the deed can reverse the curse.'”

“'Who did the deed can reverse the curse.'” Jensen repeats, lost in thought. “If it is a curse. God knows how that wizard got you banned in the first place.”

“Plus, you know, he's been dead for a good 400 years,” Misha sighs.

“That too,” Jensen frowns, then rubs his forehead. He feels the tension rise in his neck and head, a surefire way to know there's a killer headache in the making. “But still, it's a clue. One that we shouldn't dismiss before we look into it. We need to do some more research at the library.”

“We?” Misha asks.

“Yes, we. I think we'll find more, even if you only read over my shoulder.”

“But I'll have to come to UT with you, then, right?” Misha shudders, obviously not pleased at the prospect of having to go there.

“It's where the library is, so, yes,” Jensen answers.

“Well, if there really isn't any other way--”

“Nope.”

“Alright,” Misha gives in.

There's nothing.

Niente, nada, nichts.

Jensen doesn't know where he could still search. The books on curses just contain magical curses, and bans are too complicated to actually have been wielded by a simple wizard in the middle ages. Plus, they've never been explored in detail because the wizards who actually managed to do them died out long ago.

“Who says he's a simple wizard like that?” Jensen brings up.

“I do, because I knew him,” Misha shoots him a quick look.

Jensen opens up the next thick folder and huffs in frustration as he browses through pages of entries.

Misha is looking over his shoulder, skimming the content with him.

And if Jensen thought not having Misha around sucked, then actually having Misha back is even worse. Because Jensen wants and longs with every fiber of his being to be with him, touch him, kiss him, but not in a pretend way. He wants it all, and he wants it with a desperation he had never known before.

Misha, however, doesn't seem to be faring much better.

He sighs and heads towards one of the back rows, mumbling something about a book he saw that might contain information on bans, but would be a far stretch.

Jensen doesn't look after him. Or at least he tries not to and fails miserably.

“Oh, hey, Jensen,” another familiar voice startles him after he’d been frowning at the page before him for a few seconds.

When Jensen looks up, he finds Jared walking towards him with a huge smile. “I didn't expect to see you here on a Tuesday.”

“Hey, um,” Jensen forces himself to return the smile, no matter how much he doesn't feel like it. It's not his prof's fault, after all. “Just doing research.”

“I see. A magic related topic or a chemistry related topic?” Jared asks with genuine interest, and Jensen caves.

“Still my pet project,” he answers. “Portals to and from the realm beyond.”

Jared's face turns to stone for a moment, which again surprises Jensen. “I see, but why would you—”

That's when Misha rounds the corner with a disappointed look on his face. They had been careful not to meet any wizards on the way in, since Misha was suspicious of them, but Jensen had not expected the reaction Misha showed when he's faced with Jared.

First, he gapes at Jensen's professor, then opens and closes his mouth like a fish for two, three times, and then he shouts, enraged, in a voice that Jensen has never heard him use before. “You!”

That one, simple word is spoken out with so much hatred, so much anger, that Jensen flinches.

“Dmitri,” Jared whispers, obviously in shock.

“You fucking son of a bitch,” Misha says, his voice dripping with forced calmness. “How are you even alive?”

“Doesn't matter,” Jared mumbles, dismissing the question. “How are you even here?”

“Well, since you banned me to the realm, I'm pretty much immortal, right?”

“Wait,” Jensen butts in, now gaping at Misha and Jared alternately. “He's the one who banned you? Jared?”

Goofy, nice guy Jared being the one who banned Misha. Jensen can't believe it.

Misha glares at Jared, still, but nods.

“I did,” Jared confirms.

“Fuck me,” Jensen comments and closes the book he was reading.

Misha is too enraged to even comment on the sexual innuendo Jensen practically handed him on a plate. His nostrils are flaring, his palms balled into fists.

Jensen points at Jared, then, glad that they couldn't hurt each other even if they tried. “I think you've got some explaining to do, prof.”

“There's not much to explain. I was a desperate young father of a dying daughter, he promised me his serum would heal her, and it didn't.”

“And that justifies holding me captive in a realm where I can't interact with any other humans, where I am doomed to centuries of being alone, and occasionally finding a wizard I can at least talk to?”

“What I did was vengeful and mean-spirited, I give you that, and I'm sorry,” Jared sighs. “I'm not gonna say you didn't deserve the punishment for lying about something that affected a small child's life, but whatever punishment you deserved, it wasn't over four hundred years in the realm.”

Misha huffs. “So?”

“So I hope that you forgive me, because I forgave you centuries ago.”

“I'll forgive you if you can get me out of here,” Misha purses his lips and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“There is no way out of the realm, Dmitri,” Jared states, his voice soft and apologetic. “And you know it.”

“Yeah, but somehow you got a portal to open so he could be banned,” Jensen throws in. “Plus, who did the deed can reverse the curse, right?”

“Generally, yeah,” Jared sighs. “Except that a ban is not a curse, and that's not just technicalities here. It's all a lot more difficult than you think. I hardly knew if it would work back then. There's a potion involved and a lot of stuff I'm not sure could even be recreated like that in this time. It's all just not that easy.”

He rubs his hand over his forehead, a deep frown forming between his eyebrows.

“So what now?” Jensen prompts.

Jared shrugs. “I can do some research, but I can't promise anything.”

“It's the least you can do,” Misha snaps.

“I know,” Jared says. “But like I said, don't expect the perfect solution. I'm not gonna lie to you, it's not looking good.”

Misha's lips turn thin, but he nods.

“Still,” Jensen nods, too, lost in thought. “All of this doesn't explain why you are over four hundred years old and still alive.” He eyes Jared with curiosity.

Jared shrugs and smiles subdued. “Transformation, my favorite magical ability. Very risky procedure to regenerate and copy body cells of the organs. If I do anything wrong, I'm a cancer patient, so I've only ever used it on myself.”

“Wow,” Jensen comments impressed.

“And how did you two meet, anyway?” Jared asks.

“I met Jensen years ago, lived in his apartment since before he became a wizard,” Misha explains. “It's a way to pass the time between decades,” he adds, another stab at Jared, who looks once again apologetic.

“And then... some things happened and I just really want Misha here in my own realm,” Jensen states and gestures between the two of them. “Because I want to spend my life with him, and not like this.”

“Like I said, I can't promise that it's even possible. This is a procedure done exactly once as far as I know, so,” Jared shrugs helplessly, then raises an eyebrow. “Besides. You're calling him Misha?”

“It's a nickname I took on some time after I was sick of being reminded of my old name and my old life,” Misha says.

“You called him Dmitri,” Jensen acknowledges with a questioning look at Jared.

“Dmitri Krushnic,” Misha shrugs.

Jensen ponders for a second before he realizes where he's heard that name before. “Wait. You don't happen to know someone named Sasha Krushnic, the guy who wrote a diary about his experiments of opening a portal to the realm beyond?”

“My brother,” Misha replies and avoids Jensen's eyes. He looks sad, almost close to tears. “He tried to reverse my ban for years without success.”

“I read his book. He tried every potion and spell that was possible at the time.”

“And yet it was still possible at the time to get me banned,” Misha remarks snidely. “If there's a way in, there has to be a way out.”

Jared sighs and drops his head. “I get it, okay? You're still pissed. I understand that. But please accept this as a peace offering. I'm on your side here.”

Misha tilts his head and squints. “And you know, I have a hard time believing that.”

“Why would I hold a grudge for that long? Yes, I suffered. I grieved and mourned and almost lost my wife. I also realized that you played a rather small part in why my daughter died. She had a fever, common at the time, and child death rates were high anyway. I needed a scapegoat and you were as good as any. After a couple years, my rage had long since burned out and believe me, there was not a day in my life that I wasn't reminded of you. I feel bad, alright. I wanna fix things.”

“Okay,” Misha nods. “Prove it.”

“I will,” Jared confirms. “I'll let you know when I've got something to work with.”

Jensen feels like he needs to walk on eggshells around Misha, since he's quiet and brooding and flying across the room whenever Jensen's phone so much as vibrates with a text.

It's tension, nervousness and still so much anger that Jensen doesn't know how to deal with it.

Their relationship isn't the same as before. Jensen's libido has evaporated after their confrontation with Jared. There's no time to even think about it, and Misha seems to feel the same.

They don't hear from Jared for a whole week, and when Jensen goes to class on Saturday, he just shakes his head.

“I'll need more time,” he says apologetically when Jensen passes his desk on his way out.

“It's fine,” Jensen answers, even if it really, really isn't.

His and Misha's conversations are strained in a way they've never been. It's always been so easy with Misha that Jensen never thought about it as much as he does now.

When he relays Jared's plea to Misha that night, Misha almost explodes. “Oh for fuck's sake, that asshole should get his shit together and make this happen!”

Jensen stares at him in surprise. “Misha--”

“No, I mean it! Why does he stall us like that?” he spits out, floating across the living room and back while Jensen follows him with his eyes, sitting on the couch.

“Misha,” Jensen starts again, and Misha is already opening his mouth to interrupt him again, but Jensen silences him with a flick of his hand. “Will you listen to me? Will you stop doubting that he's really sorry and working on it? Because-- you know what, cut the bullshit. This whole week was a disaster. And I know we're both on edge and all, but this doesn't help us in the least. I'll just go ahead and say it – what if it doesn't work, what if there is no way? What are we going to do?”

Misha deflates with every word, eventually slumps down on the couch beside Jensen. “I don't know.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Jensen insists. “But that's what we both fear more than anything, right? So let's talk this out, get rid of the fear.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Misha nods, then nibbles on his bottom lip before answering, “I would like to stay with you, even if we can't be together. But then we can't have sex any more. Not because I wouldn't want to, but I don't want to start this up again when it's only tying you down and preventing you from finding real happiness with someone... someone real. I just want you to live your life and be happy.”

“And you'd be happy to stay and be my friend?” Jensen asks in disbelief.

“Yes, I would. It'd be hard and maybe I'd have to leave for a few days here and there, but I would. And of course I would move on to somewhere else if you don't want me to be here,” Misha's voice sounds shaky, but sincere.

Jensen looks at him, studies him, and finds nothing but honesty in those blue eyes. “I'm glad you see it that way. Now that wasn't so hard, was it?”

“No,” Misha smiles. “And you were right, I feel better, at least a bit. I mean, I still wish that Jared will find a way. God, how I wish. Just so I could get to kiss you.”

“Hug you,” Jensen adds while he mirrors the smile, “Because that's what I wanted to do most frequently this past week.”

“Run my hand through your hair,” Misha supplies the described gesture.

Jensen grins. “Fall asleep with my arms around you and drool onto your shoulder.”

“Suck your dick.”

“That, too,” Jensen laughs. “Fuck you until you're sore.”

“Aw, hell no, I'm topping,” Misha protests.

“Yeah, right,” Jensen teases. “You tell yourself that.”

They end up smiling at each other, eyes locked and sparkling with mirth.

“Yeah, we're gonna be alright,” Misha drawls out, and Jensen agrees.

' _My place, Spooner St 405, tomorrow at 5. Bring Misha.'_

That's all Jared's text said.

So Jensen and Misha are there, on a rainy Friday afternoon, with all their hopes and dreams on the brink of getting fulfilled or shot down forever.

Jared greets them with a smile and the offer of coffee, which Jensen accepts.

Then they sit down at the kitchen table to talk business. Misha takes the invitation literally and sits down on top of the table beside Jensen and Jared, who face each other.

Stacks of paper cover Jared's table, with the occasional book thrown in-between them.

“You wanna hear the good news or the bad news first?” Jared asks, grabbing a single piece of paper which shows a copied part of a book, written in some kind of ancient language, and handwritten notes in a tiny, but neat hand, underneath.

“This is all you got?” Misha asks in disbelief and cranes his neck to get a look at the paper. “What the hell is this?”

“This is all we need,” Jared explains. “This is the formula and ingredients of the potion we need. I already figured out the additional spells.”

“I can't read that,” Jensen points at the old, unfamiliar letters on top of the page.

“Yeah, me neither,” Jared admits. “That's the bad news.”

“Let me try,” Misha demands after a second of studying it, and Jensen turns the page so Misha is able to read it.

Jensen watches in fascination as Misha's eyes skip back and forth on the paper, his index finger following each line. He shoots a look at Jared, who seem transfixed by Misha, too.

“The symbols are ones that alchemists used.”

“What do they say?” Jensen asks and grabs a notepad and a sharpie that he sees sticking out from under a random assortment of copies.

“They say nothing. It's a recipe of elements,” Misha explains, his face lighting up. “Jay, write down what I dictate to you.”

And so Jensen writes down a list of foreign sounding words without a clue of their meaning. There are words like 'Mater Luna' and 'Schwefel' and 'Blei'.

When Misha stops, Jared shakes his head. “What is this?”

A tiny smile has formed on Misha's lips during his read. “Alchemist slang, if you will. And Old High German.”

“And you understand that?” Jensen doesn't know whether to laugh or frown.

“Of course,” Misha smirks.

Turns out, 'Mater Luna' means a principle of alchemy, while the rest is just sulfur and lead. The other metals and ingredients are – among herbs and some water – unpronounceable. However, Jensen can't help but grin.

Jared just shakes his head. “I don't know about you, but I don't know half these things.”

“I do,” Jensen smiles, finally feeling useful. “There's a reason I studied chemistry.”

“That mean you know what these are?”

Jensen raises an eyebrow and nods. “Of course.”

“And you can get them for us?” Misha asks.

Jensen shrugs. “With a bit convincing my boss, yes. They are mostly harmless, but we should handle their combination carefully.”

The three of them share incredulous looks until the penny drops.

“Does that mean we have an actual shot at this?” Misha almost gasps.

“Yes,” Jared nods with a spaced out grin. “Yes, we do!”

“Holy shit,” Jensen whispers as Misha whoops and jumps off the table with a somersault. Then he turns to Jared. “Still, there's a couple things I don't understand about this. How did you manage to make that potion when you don't know the ingredients?”

“I, um, I didn't,” Jared admits, staring at the recipe. “My mentor, he made the potions. When I plotted my revenge, I went to his old lab – he'd died years before that – and found the spells. And the potion needed for it. So I thought I'd give them a try.”

Jensen nods. “So that's why--”

Jared chuckles a bit embarrassed. “-- that's why it took me so long, yeah. I had to dig up his old notes and had to decipher the spells.”

“So how does it work, exactly?” Misha throws in from the sideline. “I mean, if I manage to pass the portal. Like, physically.”

“That's the other point that boggles me,” Jensen says. “Misha's body burned, right? That's why he's a spirit?”

Jared shakes his head and screws up his face. “No. Yes. It's more difficult than that. You have to understand that Misha didn't technically die. His body was never harmed by the fire, since the fire was used to create the portal, even though to any bystander, it looked like the flames had burned his body to ashes.”

Jensen stares at him. “So? What does that mean?”

“It means,” Jared gestures around, pauses for a bit, then continues, “His body was cast into the realm without being destroyed. His body still exists. Just, the realm works differently. It's like Misha's body is frozen in time and space, and since he's on a different plane of existence, he appears as a ghost or a spirit to us.”

“Meaning, I should be able to simply walk through the portal,” Misha states.

“Yes,” Jared confirms.

“But one does not simply walk into Mordor,” Jensen mumbles. “Let's hope this works,” he adds on a more cheerful note, pointing at the recipe.

“So run us through this,” Jensen asks two nerve-wracking weeks later. “What's going to happen?”

Jared takes a deep breath and composes himself by arranging the various pieces of paper and a mysterious looking flask in front of him. “A couple of things are going to happen, and it's vital that they happen in this exact order: There's a potion, fire, and three spells involved.” He hands a sheet over to Jensen, copied notes that look like the ones in front of Jared. “We're gonna cast this here, in my basement, since it's safer down here than in the lab. Just, try not to blow up my house. Now, the spells. After the fire burns, the first spell needs to be cast on it. Then the potion, which I've already made, is tossed into it. And I can't stress this enough – we only have one chance to do this. The ingredients of the potion are very hard to get these days, and very expensive.”

“And highly illegal,” Jensen rolls his eyes, since he's the one who developed an almost scary ability of obtaining ingredients for experiments he never actually did, because he took said ingredients home. Vicki was a bit suspicious, but supportive of his initiative. If she noticed anything, she didn't say.

Jared continues as if Jensen hadn't interrupted him. “It was almost impossible to get this one assembled, and I'm not even talking about the chemicals alone. So if we fail, this is it.”

Jensen swallows heavily, but nods, as does Misha.

“After the potion comes spell number two, which actually opens the portal. Everything until then, I'm gonna take care of. But the last spell is one that only Jensen can cast.”

“Why?” Jensen and Misha ask simultaneously.

“You know how alchemists believed that they needed to be cleansed of heart and mind to produce the Great Work? Think along the lines of that. The spell only works with powerful feelings to fuel it. When I banned Dmitri, hate and revenge were the feelings that drove me. And to get him out again, I need you to put all the feelings you have for him into the spell. Do you think you can do that?”

Jensen nods. “Of course.”

“Good. Just concentrate and let the feelings guide you.”

They work through the spells after that, through pronunciation and technicalities, until Jared deems them ready and Jensen agrees.

Part of him is afraid of ruining everything, and the other part just wants to get it over with.

In Jared's basement, there's a huge open fireplace already stacked with dry wood and old newspapers, and Jared lights it on fire with a practiced motion. While the flames lick at the logs, Jensen makes himself familiar with the tiny lab, and goes over the instructions once again.

“I'll cast the first spell now,” Jared announces, then stands in front of the fireplace, his eyes closed, muttering under his breath until the fire roars up and flickers blue for a split second. “Alright. That makes it ready to be manipulated by magic.”

Jensen watches impressed while Misha nervously circles around them.

“Would you please hand me the potion, Jensen?” Jared asks, keeping an eye on the bright red, sparkling flames.

Carefully, Jensen picks up the flask with a brown-purple-ish powder in it, and hands it over to Jared. With a few more mumbled words, Jared empties the whole content of the flask into the fire.

“Alright, get ready and remember that the portal itself is unstable. It will hold for a minute or two, but then that's it. Be quick, be efficient, and focus. And believe in yourself, Jensen, you're a natural. You can do this.”

Jensen closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, then opens them again and locks eyes with Misha. He looks lost and hopeful and Jensen wants to hold him in his arms so much it hurts.

“I'll do my best,” he promises.

“I know you will,” Misha answers with a confident, proud smile. “Good luck.”

“Are you ready?” Jared asks, frowning with worry, but they both confirm with a nod.

Jared settles into his position and starts muttering again. The spell is long and complicated, Jensen knows, and Jared makes an effort to keep the portal's powers neutral and ready for Jensen's feelings to corrupt it.

The fire roars up once again, but this time, it doesn't die down to a regular size again. This time, there's a bright orange wall, with blue flames at its base.

Jared nods at Jensen to do his part, and with his heart stuck in his throat, his pulse racing and his eyes trained on Misha, Jensen starts his spell. It's not as long as the spell for the portal, but it's long enough for him to read it from a piece of paper, out loud, not muttered like Jared did. Clear and defined, he misses or misspells not a single word.

Jensen closes his eyes when he finishes the spell, focuses on Misha. On his attraction towards him, on the feeling of needing him and wanting to help him.

But there's no sound of anything happening. He opens his eyes again, looks around to find where Misha stands, lost and helpless, before him, but--

Misha is still standing at the portal.

See-through, translucent, and still a spirit.

“It didn't work!” Jared unhelpfully supplies. “And the portal starts to waver. Hurry!”

“Can I do the spell again?” Jensen bursts out, panic rising in his chest, his pulse racing.

“Yes!”

“Jay, concentrate,” Misha coaches him slowly. “Calm down, concentrate, and do it right.”

From the corner of his eyes, Jensen notices Jared wincing and obviously forcing part of his powers into maintaining the portal.

Jensen looks into Misha's deep blue eyes, at the love and understanding shining in them, takes in the hope and the want he feels as well, and his own heart clenches with pain.

“Misha,” he mumbles. “If this fails, I want you to know--”

“Jensen!” Jared shouts, interrupting him, “Do it! I can't hold the portal much longer!”

“Fuck!” Jensen curses under his breath, then reads the spell once again, not slowly and carefully this time, speaking parts from memory and hoping that he gets them right, but he just can't look away from Misha. Desperation spreads through him and rears its ugly face at him, discouraging him. He hurries through the spell, sees the flicker of the portal during the last words, and his heart aches at Misha's big, hopeful eyes.

Then Jared struggles, his whole body shakes, and Jensen knows, just knows, that he's not going to make it.

He yells the last words in a hurry, eyes focused on Misha.

And just as he channels all his magic ability, reaches out to the whole room, to the energy of the portal, the fire, Misha and Jared, of all the tiny pieces of magical power in the items and furniture around him and throws everything at the portal, uncontrolled and sloppy and desperate – just as he feels a powerful surge of magic race through him, the portal collapses and he and Jared are thrown off their feet by the excess force.

Jensen hears himself shout, a loud, broken “Misha!” that rips through the earth shattering, nasty bang that hits the lab, that makes flasks pop and shelves break off the wall, their contents spilling onto the tiled floor.

For a second, Jensen loses control and his footing. He sees books flying across the lab, hitting the walls and the floor and his chest. A wooden board comes crashing down beside his head, and he finds himself lying in the dirt, on the floor, looking at the ceiling.

The fire is extinguished, strangely enough, and Jared is lying beside him, propped up on one elbow as he tries to overcome a coughing fit. There's streaks of powdered plaster in his hair and dirt on his left cheek, and Jensen knows he doesn't look any better.

“Shit,” Jared eventually comments with emphasis and tears in his eyes, still gasping for air.

“What just happened?” Jensen manages as he takes in the debris all around them. Willy is shaking around Jensen's ankle.

“That happens when you unleash the force of too much uncontrolled magic onto a room.”

“So it didn't work?”

Jensen looks around once again, but Misha is nowhere to be seen. Not as a spirit, nor as a human.

An eerie calm settles over Jensen, shock stiffening his body.

“It failed,” he states flatly, and it's like he's an observer, looking down on the situation from up above, from somewhere where the turmoil of feelings can't reach him. “It failed,” Jensen repeats, his voice breaking. “What's the worst that could've happened to Misha?”

Jared sighs and looks up at the ceiling. “Define 'worst'. If it's that you might never see Misha again, then the worst that could've happened is that he moved from the realm beyond to the realm of the dead, that he now rests in peace.”

“And you couldn't have told me that earlier?” Jensen bursts out.

“Would it have lessened the pressure on you?” Jared asks, tilting his head towards Jensen.

Jensen huffs, bitterness making his gut churn. “No. Okay. And the potion was absolutely correct?”

“Absolutely. I wouldn't have been able to open the portal if it wasn't.”

“Shit,” Jensen curses with gusto.

They lay on the floor for a few more minutes, catching their breath and waiting for something to happen. When nothing has changed for over five minutes, Jensen gets up and collects books while trying not to step into any pieces of glass.

He failed. He ruined his one and only chance to save Misha.

And now he's gone.

Forever.

Jensen waits for a month. Waits to wake up to Misha lying beside him, smiling at him, no matter if he's human or a spirit. He waits for his doorbell to ring, for Misha to stand there the way he remembers him, imagines hugging him hello.

There's a whole three days where he's convinced that Misha is still inside his apartment, waiting and hiding and fucking with him, except that the prank is too cruel to think Misha would go through with it. Also, the blue fuzzball is whining a lot of the time, so he seems to miss Misha a lot, too.

Danneel and Felicia are at his side all the way, providing distraction and someone to talk to if he feels like it. They understand and they soothe him when he feels like he’s losing his mind once again.

After that month, it dawns on Jensen that Misha is not going to just show up again.

That Misha is gone, and that it's his own damn fault for ruining the spell.

Jensen almost drinks himself into a coma that night. He skips work for three days and spends them drunk out off his mind at home, going through three bottles of Jack and several sixpacks of beer, stacking half-empty pizza boxes on the floor beside the couch. Danneel stops by sometime during the third day, ignores his protests and shoves him under the shower.

“I'm so angry,” Jensen eventually confesses when he feels himself sobering up a bit. “I fucked up. It's my fault and I hate myself for it.”

“But he's in a better place now,” Danneel tries to reason, clutching his hands in an almost painful grip.

“No he's fucking not,” Jensen spits without meeting her eyes. “His place is here, with me, at my side, not fucking... dead.”

At that, he starts to cry, and hates himself even more.

“I wish I could do the spell again. I've thought about it, but Jared says it's impossible. And it's impossible to reverse the spell. You can't bring anyone back from the dead,” he says through tears and hiccups.

Danneel resolves to hugging him tight and not letting him go, which does help a bit, Jensen has to admit.

Jensen goes back to work the following Monday, even though life feels dull and pointless. He's got no motivation to do the lab work he used to love so much, finds nothing that even gets him out of bed in the morning. Not without a chipper “Good morning sunshine” from a certain someone that won't be here ever again.

He still drinks too much on the weekends, but Jensen doesn't know how to deal with it any other way. It's not like he doesn't know he's depressed, and he avoids Danneel and Felicia at all costs for a while, not wanting to pull them down with him. Saturdays are the worst, when he sees Jared at class, learning to do some meaningless household tricks while being constantly reminded of his epic failure.

Jared is understanding and taking it easy on Jensen. Not that it helps the situation in the least.

Jensen knows that he hit rock bottom six months after the failed experiment, when he wakes up on his bathroom floor in his own drool and vomit, with his head pounding and his mouth tasting like something died in it. Probably his dignity, Jensen muses on a sarcastic note, and snorts.

His apartment reeks of alcohol and gastric acid, bottles and pizza boxes are lying around, covering every available surface, and he hasn't opened his mail in a week. He knows he's paid his bills and all that, but that's about it.

It's disgusting.

Misha would've screwed up his face if he'd seen this. Misha would've kicked his ass if he'd seen this. Misha would've been disappointed in him.

Jensen looks at the mirror, at his face covered in weeks-old stubble – okay, make that a full beard, which wouldn't even look half as hobo-ish if he maintained it a bit – and at his greasy hair sticking to his head in strands, and is ashamed. Ashamed of himself, how much he's let this get to him, how much he's let himself go, of his alcohol abuse and the fact that he hasn't been to work the last week or so.

Danneel is worried about him, but she still picks up his slack at the lab, even though Jensen knows he's doubling her workload and taking advantage of her friendship.

Felicia even offered to go to an AA meeting with him, and Jensen had denied that he was drinking too much on a regular basis.

They've been great friends and Jensen had disappointed them time and time again.

He takes a long shower that day, shaves off his beard except for a bit around his chin and upper lip, which he trims neatly, and makes an effort to style his hair.

The cleaning of the apartment takes him all afternoon, but Jensen throws some music into the stereo system and just gets to work. He throws out the empty bottles and the mildewed remains of pizza and Chinese food. He cleans the kitchen and the living room and vacuums the whole place. He goes out to buy groceries and doesn't buy any more whiskey or beer.

Misha wouldn't have wanted to see him like that.

As proof to himself and his friends, Jensen invites Danneel and Felicia over for the next date night, and they look more than skeptical when he opens the door.

They both hug him hello, asking how he's been.

“Better,” he says and makes a gesture that encompasses the apartment. “Also, I've been sober for the past five days. I know it's not much, but it's a beginning.”

That makes Danneel smile with surprise, and after she took a quick look at the other rooms, she hugs him again on impulse. “Jay, I'm so proud of you,” she says with tears in her eyes.

“Thank you,” he mumbles into her neck as he lifts her off the floor.

Felicia pats him on the back and says, “It's good to have you back.”

Another month later, Jensen decides to make the best of this crazy chapter in his life, and writes his thesis about the influence of alchemy on magic assisted modern chemistry. Vicki is so impressed by it that she changes his contract with the lab to that of a full doctorate as soon as Jensen's dissertation is approved by the board of UT.

Slowly but surely, Jensen regains his footing and his grip on his life.

He's still single, but he's not lonely. He's got Danneel and Felicia and Fuzzy. Also, Willy is still there, and among the magicians, Jensen has developed recognition value because of him and because of his thesis.

There hasn't been a guy in his life since Misha. Jensen isn't as hung up on him as he used to be, but he doesn't feel the need to date or to put someone into the position of breaking his heart like that again. Most importantly, he's completely fine with that.

In the six months following his revelation, he doesn't touch any alcohol.

He's in control again, and that's what matters.

Control however, is a treacherous subject. For a second, one has it, but it might just slip right through one's fingers the next second.

That second, for Jensen, happens when he opens the door on a Tuesday evening in mid-October, already dressed in his sleeping clothes. The figure standing in front of him looks familiar, but Jensen needs a moment to connect the dots between the disheveled, shabby guy with the too-long, curly brown, the mismatched, dirty, thread-bare clothes and Misha.

But that smile on dry, cracked-open and bloody lips, and those sparkling blue eyes are unmistakable.

“Misha?” Jensen whispers, feeling like the floor is being pulled out from under his feet. For a moment, he doesn't get enough air. “Is that you?”

“Hello, Jay,” Misha answers softly, and Jensen's heart melts the second he hears that voice again, that voice he missed so much, because for so long it was all that connected them. On impulse, he steps forward and pulls Misha into his arms, doesn't care that Misha looks like he hasn't showered in weeks and smells like it to. It doesn't matter, because it's Misha, and he's finally in his arms, and Jensen can feel the warmth of his body beneath the layers of clothes. Can feel the shift of Misha's muscles as he wraps his arms around Jensen's shoulders and holds on tight.

Misha's here, and they're touching, and suddenly it's all too much for Jensen.

“Shit, it's been a year,” he shakes his head in disbelief, his heart suddenly pounding hard against his ribcage, so much it almost hurts. Jensen steps back, but still doesn't let Misha go. “How are you here?”

When Misha smiles again, Jensen's knees start to get wobbly. He leans against the door frame for support.

“I don't even know. It took me so long to get here and I... I was just hoping that you... and maybe I'm delusional about this, correct me if I'm wrong, but--” he takes a deep breath and looks almost sheepish while doing so.

Jensen chuckles. It's mostly nerves. “You're rambling.”

“Sorry,” Misha winces.

“It's adorable,” Jensen admits with a smile.

Misha grins, obviously elated. “So, um, as I was saying... I hope you'll still have me? I know it's been a while, and I can only speak for myself, but--”

“Come in,” Jensen interrupts him and ushers him inside, closing the door behind him. He forces himself to be rational about this, mainly because his stomach is in knots and his feelings are a mess that he yet has to work through. “We can talk about that later, alright? You look like shit, and no offence, Mish, but you reek. C'mon, let's get you under the shower, and then you can tell me how you got here and what happened. You know where the bathroom is, just go ahead. I'll bring you some towels and clothes.”

“Thank you,” Misha says and turns around, running straight into the wall separating the hallway from the bathroom. “Ouch,” he grouses, rubbing his head.

“Are you alright?” Jensen asks, trying hard to contain his laughter, because Misha doesn't look hurt, but rather disgruntled.

“Yeah, still getting used to being human and having to walk through your apartment through doors and shit like that,” Misha grunts with pain and rubs his hand over his temple.

That's when it's over for Jensen's self control. The awkward tension of the past minutes erupts in an almost hysterical fit. He throws his head back and laughs like he hasn't laughed in what feels like years, a deep, breathless belly laugh.

“Making fun of me for my pain,” Misha tsks with a smirk, “Shame on you. I'll go shower now.”

Jensen still wheezes when he points at the door to the bathroom, then pads off towards his bedroom, getting towels and an old t-shirt and boxers for Misha. When he enters the bathroom, Misha is already standing under the spray. Jensen unceremoniously takes the whole pile of clothes Misha left in the middle of the bathroom carpet, empties the pockets and drops them into a trash bag. Not even a good wash could save that ugly goodwill stuff.

It only dawns on Jensen, the reality of Misha being here fully hitting home, when he sits on the couch and stares at the chess board sitting on the shelf beside his TV.

Misha is alive, he's human, and he's _here_.

It's quite a lot to process, and Jensen finds himself staring baffled at Misha, who stands in the doorway to his living room about five minutes later.

“You're here, really here,” Jensen finds himself saying.

“Yes,” Misha nods and sits down beside him. “Wow, that is actually comfy. It never looked like a comfy couch.”

“How are you here?” Jensen throws in, ignoring Misha's last comment.

“I took a bus, and a plane before that, and some trains,” Misha shrugs.

“So the spell worked after all?”

Misha grins. “Obviously.”

“Oh man,” Jensen sighs, then chuckles. “For a year now, I thought I fucked it up. Like, big time, letting you move on to the realm of the dead.”

“Nah,” Misha's smile turns crooked and adorable. “I just popped up where the ban was originally cast, is all.”

“And where was that?”

“Poland, in the middle of bumfuck nowhere,” Misha shrugs amused. “I had to take on a couple of jobs to save up for a flight to the States. Which, you know, isn't that easy to get to if you don't even have papers. Took me some time to save up the money for fake ones.” He reaches for the pile of personal stuff Jensen had saved from the bag of stinking clothes, and hands him a passport.

Jensen's skin tingles where his fingers brush Misha's as he takes it from him, which is every cliché in the book, but Jensen can't bring himself to mind.

“Misha Collins?” he reads out. “Does have a nice ring to it, I'll give you that.”

“Yeah, the guy I, uh, commissioned, suggested it, since it's a lot easier than my real name. And I kind of liked the surname he came up with.”

“Well,” Jensen smiles, then hands back the paper with a wink. “Hello, Mister Collins.”

At the flirtatious tone, Misha looks up to find Jensen's eyes, and wow, his blue eyes are even more intense when Misha isn't a spirit.

“Jay,” he sighs.

“Mish?” Jensen answers and tilts his head, leaning forward.

It's an open invitation, one that Misha picks up on immediately.

“It's good to be home,” Misha whispers. He leans in and kisses Jensen full on his lips, and for a moment Jensen thinks he's going to burst with the butterflies filling his stomach and making him want to explode and hug the world all at once. Instead, he wraps his arms around Misha, holds him as he kisses him breathless.

“I lost any and all hope that I'd ever get to do this,” Jensen confesses when they break apart to gasp for air.

“I spent the last months pretty much living on the roads and sleeping in parks, just to save up money for bus tickets,” Misha states, “and yet it took forever to get here.”

As if on cue, Misha's stomach rumbles.

“When have you eaten for the last time?” Jensen frowns.

“Properly? No idea. I had a banana some stranger gave to me about... I think three days ago.”

And now that he's aware of it, Jensen notices how much skinnier Misha has become and gets to his feet. “Alright, sit tight. I'm gonna make us dinner. And while I cook, you tell me all about your travels.”

Jensen makes a simple meal, spaghetti with tomato sauce, because he could make that from scratch blindfolded and with his right arm tied behind his back. Years of being a student will do that to you.

And while he cuts tomatoes and sautés diced onions with finely cut garlic, Misha sits at his tiny table, hands entwined in his lap, and stares at him.

“So?” Jensen prompts with a smile as he fills a pot with warm water.

“I'd say it was an adventure,” Misha's lips curl into a crooked smile, “I mean, I started out with nothing but the clothes I was wearing when I popped up in Poland. I reached Prague, more or less by foot and with hitchhiking, where I found a homeless shelter that offered a simple job and food and clothes from charity. When I had the money, I bought a train ticket through Germany and to the Netherlands, since I hoped to get aboard a ship that would cross the Atlantic. That stuff got way too hard in the last few centuries, let me tell you that.”

Jensen chuckles deep in his chest. “I bet. What did you do, then?”

“I got a job, and a place to stay in a youth hostel, where I did some simple maintenance stuff and things around the house. And the things I could tell you about the coffee shops over there...” Misha smacks his lips. “Hadn't had weed that good ever before.”

That actually has Jensen laugh out loud. “You were high all the time?”

“Nah,” Misha waves off, “Wished I was, but that was money I'd rather save up for a flight. About eight months after I landed in Poland, I was actually able to pay for it, but then I noticed I needed papers to even be able to book a flight. So I found a guy who knew a girl who knew a guy who actually managed to get me that fake passport. Three more months of working to make the money I spent on the pass, and I was good to go. In the US, I mainly hitchhiked and spent my last money on the Greyhound bus to here.”

“What about the people you met? Crossed any borders in a vegetable truck or something?”

“It's called the Schengen Agreement, Jay. Go anywhere you want without border controls. I just went back 'home' to the US, so that was the least of my problems,” Misha says amused. “But yeah, I met some interesting people. There was that guy back in Bavaria who slept over night at the train station with me, since we both didn't have anywhere to be...”

Misha's voice has a soft, familiar timbre, and it's comforting to listen to it. Jensen lets it wash over him as he works, listens and asks questions. Before long, the food is done, and Jensen serves it with some garlic bread he had stashed in the freezer.

Misha stares at his plate full of steaming noodles and sauce and at the crispy, golden bread.

“Everything alright?” Jensen asks. “Enjoy, you must be starving.”

“I am,” Misha says, and he seems oddly touched. When he looks up at Jensen, his eyes are a bit glassy and he sniffles. “I'm just surprised, you know. After all these months and after suffering so much--” he breaks off, looks up at the ceiling to regain his composure.

“I know,” Jensen answers, feels how hurt Misha still is. “I'm sorry.”

“No!” Misha protests, shaking his head. “God, no. I meant, you suffered so much during the past months. And still, when I show up at your doorstep, you welcome me back as if nothing had happened and – I mean I'm obviously glad--”

“It wasn't your fault,” Jensen interrupts him. “I probably fucked up the spell. And I thought you were dead, Mish. Can you believe how happy I am to see you, at all?”

Misha smiles, the blue of his eyes magnified by the tears still threatening to fall down his reddened cheeks. “I can. Because I'm just as happy.”

“Good, then eat up,” Jensen replies. “You could use a pound or five. Jeez, I can't believe you starved yourself just to get here.”

While Misha digs into his meal, spinning spaghetti around his fork, he shrugs. “I wanted to return to you. It's the only place on earth I know I belong.”

“I--” Jensen is speechless, his world turned over backwards by the confession.

“Eat,” Misha teases. “We can talk more later.”

Just an hour later, it seems like Misha hadn't been gone for over a year. They're laughing and having fun, flirting shamelessly, although Jensen takes care to hold his distance, waits for Misha to give any signal that it's alright.

The truth, however, is that Jensen is dying to touch him, to run his hands over warm skin, feel the pulse throbbing through his veins.

Misha shoots him wink after dirty hint, and yet doesn't seek body contact.

At least not until they prepare for bed.

“You can have the bed if you want,” Jensen offers. “I'll just... sleep on the couch.”

And with a cheeky little smirk, Misha grabs Jensen's wrist and guides him towards his bedroom.

“Misha?” Jensen prompts in disbelief.

“I'll take the bed, gladly,” Misha chuckles. “But only as a package deal, with you included.”

“I-- yeah, but, we don't need to rush this. Are you really sure you're ready? Because god knows I'm ready, but I don't wanna pressure you or anything,” Jensen bursts out.

Misha's grin is full of mirth when he answers. “Jay, I've been traveling the world for the past year to get to you. I haven't had sex with anyone, real sex with actually, you know-” he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of Jensen's ear, “Sex with my dick inside of someone, fucking them nice and slow until they're begging, or sucking someone's dick the way I wanted to for a long, long time-”

Jensen leans back, presses his eyes shut for a moment to focus on not creaming his pants.

“- I haven't had that in over four hundred years. I'm so ready, I've circled past not ready to reach ready once again.”

“I get it,” Jensen groans on the exhale and surges forward, sealing his lips over Misha's in a hungry, demanding kiss. There's no questions asked, not anymore, not with Misha wrapping his arms around Jensen's waist and aligning their bodies from head to toe. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, their hard cocks trapped in slack pants meeting at just the right angle.

Jensen moans Misha's name into the open-mouthed kiss, and Misha bites his bottom lip in return.

After that, it's a frenzy of getting each others' clothes off and tumbling onto the unmade bed. Jensen pulls at the old t-shirt that he gave to Misha, can't wait to get him undressed, and barely notices through the heat settling over him that Misha's hands are brushing over the front of his pants, searching for the string to pull so Misha can shove them down and off.

Jensen feels like he's in trance, the whole experience seeming unreal as it passes by him in a blur.

Prep isn't something that Jensen is very fond of, and he takes care of it in a hurry, opening himself up on two, then three fingers. Misha is sprawled out on his back underneath him, panting and breathless and so gorgeous that Jensen doesn't even know where to start looking. He's slim, definitely on this side of too thin, but the trail of dark hair that leads down to his cock, the one that Jensen saw so often without being able to touch it, makes Jensen's mouth water.

And he'll have time for that later. For sucking Misha until he's a babbling, begging mess. Until he's coming and spilling his load down Jensen's throat. Not now, though. Jensen is way too impatient.

He grabs a condom from the bedside table while Misha watches wide-eyed, his pupils dilated to leave only a thin strip of bright blue, and rolls it down Misha's cock. Misha groans at the contact, rolls his hips and arches his back, eager and wanton.

Jensen's heart is beating a mile a minute, fast and hard and like it's ready to jump out of his chest.

And when Jensen sinks down on Misha's cock for the first time, it's a salvation and an epiphany all at once. After months without a relationship or sex, the sensory overload is so all-encompassing and overwhelming that Jensen takes a moment of sitting in Misha's lap, filled up in such a perfect and satisfying way, gasping for air and wallowing in that feeling.

“Jay?” Misha asks strained, his hands rubbing idle circles onto Jensen's hips. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, yeah, of course,” Jensen groans out, then rises on his knees to lower himself back down, enjoys every second of feeling Misha so deep inside of himself.

In a sudden moment of clarity, Jensen looks down at Misha, then blankets his body entirely with his own and kisses him until Misha sucks in a huge lungful of air in-between kisses. Jensen's moves instinctively start to get steadier and a tad bit slower, Misha rolling his hips up to meet Jensen's every thrust, and the pace building between them is maddening. Gone is the hurry, the frenzy, the rush, leaving only solemn calm and the realization that they've made it. That they're here, with each other, Misha buried balls deep in Jensen, Jensen's hands wrapped around Misha's shoulders.

Jensen laughs into Misha's mouth, kisses him, teases him with his fingers wrapped around his neck, running them through the curly hair at the back of his head. His stomach is tingling with joy, driving him crazy, and Misha's skin is sweaty and hot where it meets Jensen's.

“I never want to stop feeling this,” Jensen breathes out, then inhales the smell of sweat and aftershave and something that's so fresh and new that it can only be Misha, and _fuck_ if that smell doesn't hook Jensen for the rest of his life. “Never want to stop feeling you. I didn't think it'd feel like this, holy--”

There had been other guys. Guys that weren't even that bad in bed, that made Jensen come twice a night. Guys that cared about him, who indulged him, who made him come his brains out. But it never felt like this. Never so whole, so fulfilled, so right.

Jensen feels Misha going stiff, his hands clutching his hips and guiding them down for a couple of sharp thrusts, and then Misha throws his head back without breaking eye contact once, and comes. Fills the condom, scrambles at Jensen's thighs for purchase, and moans unashamed and uncontrolled, his full lips open and slack with pleasure.

It's enough to make Jensen fly over the edge too, the intensity of it all too much to bear. He buries his face in the crook of Misha's neck to muffle the groan that he can't suppress, not even if he tried, and hits his climax hard without being touched.

“Fuck,” Jensen adds afterwards, his voice shot too hell. “That was about time.”

Misha laughs, a free, unabashed clear laughter that fills Jensen's already full heart to the brim with love and affection and more than he can put to words.

“I love you,” Jensen states, calm and sincere, and Misha's eyes crinkle at the edges when he mirrors Jensen's genuine smile.

“I love you too.”

“And we are the worst cliché in history, I hope you know that,” Jensen chuckles.

“I don't care,” Misha laughs and nudges at Jensen's hip to make him get up and go clean up. “I've waited to say that for so long and I couldn't tell you for over a year, no matter how much I wanted to. I'm not gonna avoid clichés, not for this.”

“And that is exactly why I love you,” Jensen says.

“Sap,” Misha replies, his eyes sparkling and full of warmth, then kisses him. “Never change.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's note:**
> 
>  
> 
> So this year was kind of crazy. My husband and I bought a house, a fixer-upper, and renovated it throughout the first half of the year. During this time, I still managed to get two bigbangs written, so there's that, and I'm very happy with the way they both turned out. It's been a great year, folks – see you at the [spn_reversebang](http://spn_reversebang.livejournal.com/) and/or next year's [spn_j2_bigbang](http://spn_j2_bigbang.livejournal.com/)!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Special thanks:**
> 
>  
> 
> [blow_me_cas](http://blow_me_cas.livejournal.com/): For being there for me, for not letting me get away with any bullshit, and for being a reliable beta and an even better friend. Thanks for all your hard work! I know you had a lot on your plate this year, especially with your own DCBB, so I appreciate your effort very much.
> 
> [huntercas](http://huntercas.livejournal.com/): For being an absolute joy to work with and of course for your amazing artwork! I'm really grateful that you chose my story, because your style fits so well with it. Thank you for all the hours you put into this, and thank you for doing way more than you needed to. I appreciate it more than I can put to words. I hope to see you again at another challenge! Please continue to enhance this fandom with your talent.
> 
> My husband, who rolled his eyes when I pitched this idea to him.
> 
> [Kelly](http://caswouldratherbehere.tumblr.com/), [Fehla](http://mishnjay.tumblr.com/), [Wendy](http://poorbeautifuldean.tumblr.com/), [Jay](http://jayndmitri.tumblr.com/), [Anja](http://supermishamiga.tumblr.com/), [Jenn](http://winjennster.tumblr.com/): Wouldn't know what to do without you.


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